


Collared

by morganoconner



Series: Collared [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bloodplay, Bonding, Collars, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Possession, Romance, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:03:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To escape a destiny he's never wanted, Sam will give up everything that makes him who he is, and possibly find more than only redemption in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Burn

It never goes away, the darkness that’s coiled inside him. It’s still there, ready to spring when he’s least expecting it, when his back is turned and it can turn him again like it did before. He’s tried…he’s tried ignoring it, he’s tried turning his back on it, and he’s tried denying its very existence.

But it never really goes away.

He’d like to think he has Dean mostly fooled. Maybe even Castiel. They’re smart enough to keep him away from demon blood when possible, but if they _are_ still really concerned, they’re doing a very good job of no longer showing it. He wishes they would, but he doesn’t know how to ask, doesn’t know how to admit that he still clearly has a problem. He doesn’t want to see the disappointment in their eyes, or that twist to Dean’s mouth that he gets whenever Sam lets him down.

Still, he knows he needs help. He can’t keep going like this, or he’s going to slip and get more people killed. A lot more. Because jump-starting the Apocalypse wasn’t enough, and he’s still supposedly destined to do something much, much worse. So he needs help, because he can’t let that happen, can’t let himself get that bad. He won’t allow it, and if he has to swallow an entire bucket of his own pride to get that help, well, it’s still better than the alternative.

Which is why he’s where he is right now, standing on the side of an abandoned dirt rode in the middle of a downpour, blinking up at the heavens and wishing that the beings who live up there actually could be bothered to give a damn about the people down here, the way he used to have faith that they did. When he looks back down, he sighs out a gust of air at how many things have changed since he lost that faith, and than says, “Gabriel,” very quietly, as though he’s hoping the archangel won’t hear him.

He’s not that lucky, of course. Or unlucky. He’s having trouble deciding which it is, but the point is that Gabriel is suddenly there, standing three feet away from him wearing something that’s a cross between a scowl and a curious frown. The rain coming down in torrents cascades around him, like he’s protected by an invisible shield, and Sam shouldn’t be thinking about how unfair that is, but he’s cold and miserable and can’t seem to help the strange direction his thoughts are taking him while they do nothing more than stare at each other for long moments.

It’s Gabriel who finally breaks the silence, tilting his head and crossing his arms and still wearing that look that’s definitely more scowl now than curiosity. “Unless you called me here to take you to Lucifer, we have no reason to talk to each other, and I was busy. What do you want?”

Sam’s jaw clenches, and he forces that bitter pride clogging his throat down a little bit further. “Look,” he grits out, “Dean and I, we want this to be over just as much as you do. And you know he’s never going to say yes to Michael, you _know_ it. Do you _really_ want to walk away knowing that if you don’t help, you may as well be handing the world over to Lucifer? Really?”

Gabriel continues to glare at him for another minute that seems like forever to Sam, and then his expression heads back toward curious and he adds a hint of a smirk. “I notice you don’t seem as sure of _yourself_ anymore. Dean won’t say yes to Michael, you’re absolutely right. But I’d have thought that _you_ , Sam, would be just as hard-headed about letting Lucifer ride you. What’s wrong, Sammy-boy, normal life getting to be a little too much for you? Starting to miss the rush that came with a little Dark Side action?” The small smirk becomes full-fledged, and Sam hates him in that moment. “You’re afraid you won’t be as strong as Dean. You think you _will_ say yes.”

“Not really the point,” Sam growls, angry because it’s true. “The point is, is that really want you want to happen, knowing that Dean _won’t?_ Because I have this theory. You want it to be over so badly, but that’s only because you know Michael would win if it was down to the two of them. You can’t possibly _want_ Lucifer to win this war. You’re a coward, but you still care. Some part of you still cares about this godforsaken world, some part of you _has_ to after hiding here for as long as you have.”

Gabriel’s eyes are stormy and he takes a single step forward. “Get to your point. _What do you want?_ ”

“You’re an archangel. You must have some way to stop this, stop _me_. If Lucifer has no way to take his true vessel, his chances of winning go way down, right?”

Gabriel cocks his head again, considering Sam. “That is true. And you’re right, there is a way for me to make you all but useless to my brother. But you’re not gonna like it.”

“Just tell me,” Sam says. “There’s not really much I won’t consider right now.” Because it’s getting worse, this _thing_ inside of him, it’s been getting worse since the first time he saw Lucifer in his dreams, and it just _keeps_ getting worse and he wants it _done_ , damn the consequences.

And maybe Gabriel sees that desperation, maybe he even recognizes some part of it in himself. Because he takes another step forward, and now he’s right in front of Sam, and despite his shorter stature, Sam can’t help feeling like the archangel is a towering presence, glaring down at him. Gabriel reaches down, pulls a blade from his boot. He brings it up to eye level, allows Sam to inspect it by sight, trusting he’ll know what it means.

Sam swallows, understanding immediately. “No. That can’t be the only way.”

“Burn the demon blood right out of you, and it only takes once.” Gabriel shrugs. “Up to you, Sammy. Consider your choices carefully, though. We do this, I _own_ you. There’s no going back.”

Sam’s eyes close, and the breath he releases comes out somewhere between a groan and a sob. “Not again. Oh, God, not again.”

Gabriel’s voice holds something like pity, and Sam hates him a little more for it. “Won’t be like last time, Sam, I promise. No addiction, no dark scary powers. For all intents and purposes, you’ll be more human than you’ve been since you were six months old. But. You’ll be _mine_ , and there ain’t no getting around that one.”

Sam forces himself to breathe steadily, in and out, while he thinks about a world torn apart by Lucifer. Nothing left of anything he loves, and it will be _his fault_. Any price is worth stopping that, _anything_. His eyes open, zero in on the gleaming blade in front of him before moving up and refocusing on Gabriel’s face. “Do it,” he says, and his voice doesn’t tremble the way it wants to.

Gabriel doesn’t take his eyes from Sam’s as he draws his sleeve up on his left arm and very slowly, _so goddamn slowly_ , presses the blade into the soft flesh, slices it open, holds it out like an offering.

Sam’s hand shakes as he reaches out to grasp Gabriel’s arm, his eyes close briefly as he shudders out a breath, and then he’s leaning down, licking tentatively. A single drop is like a punch to his system, a burning fire in his gut that spreads outward, and then he’s leaning back down, sucking greedily at the wound before he can think about it.

The knife clatters to the ground, and someone moans. Sam is pretty sure it’s him, but finds he doesn’t care, because adrenaline is coursing through him, and the burning sensation is going deeper, and he _can’t breathe_ he’s so overcome by it, but even despite that, he can’t _stop_ , either, and Gabriel isn’t stopping him, just letting him take, and take, and _take_. He’s hard in his jeans, knows it, _feels_ it, but it seems secondary, unimportant, almost nothing compared to all the other sensations battling inside him.

Until suddenly Gabriel is stepping forward again, coming right into his space, pressing against him as he pulls his arm away, ignoring Sam’s desperate whimper as he reaches down and presses his hand against Sam’s crotch, and now he’s whimpering for an entirely _different_ reason, but it’s no less desperate. Fire is still raging through him, angel blood blazing its way through demon blood and cleansing him, and it feels pure and bright and everything _good_ that he’s never felt before in his life, but there’s another burn now, steady in his gut, and this one is being fueled by Gabriel himself, not by his blood.

His legs are threatening to buckle, and Gabriel realizes it, because he uses his other hand to very gently press down on Sam’s shoulder, follows him down so that they’re both on their knees on the rain-soaked earth, and then Gabriel lunges, pressing his mouth insistently to Sam’s, swallowing his moan, _devouring_ him… _Claiming_ him. His hand dips down into Sam’s jeans, underneath his boxers, to wrap around his dick and stroke him firmly, and his other hand cups the back of Sam’s head, gripping his hair, changing the angle and direction of the kiss and bringing them even closer together at the same time, and ‘ _Oh, God_ ’ is all Sam has time to think before he’s coming, hot, steady pulses slicking the archangel’s hand as he shudders through the most intense orgasm he’s ever experienced.

Gabriel doesn’t stop kissing him, but he does gentle it a little, and his hand is running through Sam’s too-long hair now as his other hand comes up and wraps around Sam’s waist, still wet and warm and sticky. When Sam can finally take a full breath again, he pulls back just a little and stares dazedly at Gabriel, not knowing what he should be feeling or doing or thinking anymore.

“Feel better?” Gabriel asks with a very small smirk that seems forced, somehow.

Sam thinks about it, and finds that yeah, he really does. The fire inside him has dulled down to embers, and he feels cleansed in a way he never thought possible. The lingering darkness that’s been gnawing away at him for what feels like forever is gone, and he feels lighter, peaceful. A breathless laugh escapes him at the realization, and he leans his forehead down to Gabriel’s. “Thank you,” he whispers, and it startles a laugh out of the archangel.

“Don’t thank me yet, Sammy. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into here.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sam says, and means it.


	2. Crave

_There are three things Sam learns about being with Gabriel the first night they are together. By the end of the night, these things will be etched into the deepest crevices of his brain, where he will have no chance of ever forgetting._

_The first is that when Gabriel wants something, no matter what it is, Gabriel finds a way to make sure he gets it._

_The second is that Gabriel does not share well._

_The third and final thing, and the only one that sends Sam’s pulse racing and has his eyes widening, is that Gabriel likes to make sure everyone knows when something is his. He likes his property to be marked._

~

Sam cries out, bucking up into Gabriel’s hand as the angel pumps him slowly, his head thrown back as he thrashes against the restraints on his wrists.

Gabriel grins down at him, passing his thumb over the slit of Sam’s cock and making the hunter moan. “Gotta calm down, Sam, or you’re gonna hurt yourself,” he says, moving to straddle Sam’s waist. “Maybe we’ll save these -” He snaps his fingers, and the restraints fall away. “- for later.”

Sam’s hands immediately move to grasp Gabriel’s hips. “Please, Gabriel…”

“Tell me what you want, Sam,” Gabriel murmurs, pressing his hands to Sam’s chest and bending down to catch the hunter’s lips with his own.

“Anything,” Sam gasps when Gabriel pulls away again. “Please, _fuck_ , anything.” He doesn’t understand how that could possibly be his voice, begging, sounding so _wanton_ , but he doesn’t care, he just wants Gabriel, any way he can have him, any way the archangel will allow.

“Shh,” Gabriel says, moving one of his hands down to Sam’s side, running teasing fingers up and down the curve of his body. “I’ll give you whatever you want, but first, if I ask you to do something for _me_ , will you promise to do so?” His voice is soothing, and settles the fire in Sam’s veins to a slow burn that has him writhing, seeking whatever friction he can get, which isn’t much the way Gabriel’s holding him pinned.

“ _Anything_ ,” he swears. “Gabriel, _please_ , I’ll do anything.”

“Good boy,” Gabriel says softly, and suddenly he’s holding something in his hand. Sam blinks, trying to get a look at it in the low light, but the archangel’s other hand moves, reaching down to firmly grasp Sam’s cock, and his eyes slide closed, coherent thought fleeing as he groans.

His breath stutters and catches on a gasp, and his eyes fly open when he feels something at his throat, something Gabriel is pressing into the flesh of his neck. “What…” His hand leaves Gabriel’s waist and he reaches to tentatively touch the object. “Is that a…”

Gabriel sits back and smirks a little. “Is that a…what?” he asks, tilting his head a little. Sam’s wide-eyed gaze catches his and he sits up, shoving Gabriel back.

Sam’s fingers trace the leather at his throat and he swallows hard. It circles all the way around, and doesn’t seem to have any sort of clasp or tie. “You just… _Gabriel!_ ”

“Well, you did say _anything_ , Sam. All things considered, I don’t think this is such a big deal.” Gabriel moves off of Sam and leans back on his hands, his gaze considering. “Besides, it looks good on you.”

Sam can’t form words for exactly what it is he’s thinking right now, so instead he climbs out of bed and stumbles naked over to the mirror on the wall on the other side of the room. There’s just enough moonlight coming in from the half-opened curtain to see the band of dark leather, no more than three-quarters of an inch thick, with a trail of Enochian symbols burned around it, spelling out something that Sam doesn’t understand enough to be able to read. Where those symbols end, there is one more, just a small picture that he sees is the outline of wings.

In the reflection, he watches Gabriel come up behind him, snaking his arms around Sam’s waist and nuzzling at his neck. Sam is already tilting his head to give him better access before he even thinks about it. “Gabriel, I can’t… _ahh, god_ …I can’t wear this all the time.”

“Sure you can,” Gabriel purrs, nipping lightly at the skin just above the collar and making Sam whimper. One of the archangel’s hands moves up to toy with one of Sam’s nipples, and the other reaches down between Sam’s legs, rubbing teasingly at his cock, but not grasping it the way Sam needs so desperately. He makes a pathetic little noise in his throat and tries to focus on what he’s trying to say.

“It’s not…not practical…” Sam’s voice cuts off on a choked gasp when Gabriel bites down hard on the juncture between his neck and his shoulder.

“I told you that you were mine, Sam. Did you think I was kidding?”

“N-no, but…” The words trail off on another moan, and Sam turns in Gabriel’s arms, pressing against him, their cocks rubbing together. He can still feel it, Gabriel’s blood thrumming through him. It’s like a drug to his system, when he focuses on it, but not the addictive kind, not the kind that makes him need more, makes him give in to darkness. This is just… _ecstasy_. Pure, untainted. And it’s always better when Gabriel is near him, like something inside of Sam recognizes the archangel being close.

“Wear it,” Gabriel commands, voice low. “I don’t share, Sam. _Mine_ means exactly that, and I want people to know it. _Wear it_.”

Sam buries his face in Gabriel’s shoulder, rutting up against him, seeking _more_. “All right,” he says. Promises. “I will, I swear, just -”

“That’s my boy,” Gabriel whispers, and suddenly, just like that, they’re back on the bed, Sam lying on the mattress blinking dazedly up at Gabriel.

“That’s cheating,” he manages to say, and then his head is tilted back, eyes closed in rapture as Gabriel leans down and licks around one nipple.

“Did you think I would play fair?” Gabriel asks, nipping lightly and moving over to the other one to give it the same treatment. It’s a good thing it’s a rhetorical question, because Sam has lost the ability to formulate words, pleasure coursing through him as Gabriel continues moving, kissing his way down his chest, over his stomach, nuzzling at his cock.

“G- _Gabriel_ ,” Sam breathes.

Gabriel chuckles and licks at the vein on the underside of Sam’s cock, before finally taking pity on Sam’s desperate pleas and taking it into his mouth entirely.

One of Sam’s hands fist in the bedcovers, and the other clutches desperately at Gabriel’s hair. He can’t help bucking up, fucking himself on Gabriel’s mouth, but the archangel doesn’t pull off, simply takes him deeper and hums a little in his throat, driving Sam wild.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Sam says, and right when he thinks it’s going to be over, Gabriel pulls off with a wet slurping sound and a grin.

“Not so fast, Sammy,” he says, still using that low voice that Sam thinks could probably make him come just from listening to that alone. “Want more than just a hasty blow job this first time, don’t you?”

“Don’t _care_ ,” Sam whines, breathing hard, pleading with the archangel with his eyes.

Gabriel moves as though going to brush Sam’s hair back, and by the time Sam recognizes the gesture for what it is, the archangel has already brushed two fingers across his forehead and everything goes a tiny bit…fuzzy around the edges.

“What…”

“Hush, I’m just making things a little easier for you, that’s all.” Gabriel moves so that he’s situated between Sam’s legs, and then he spreads them further apart, bending them, giving himself better access.

Sam wants to be afraid, a little, because he knows this should hurt, logically, but there’s a numbing sort of pleasure in his brain right now, and every time he starts to think about the pain, the thought drifts away before it has time to really process, and then Gabriel is kissing him, fucking his mouth with his tongue, and shoving a well-oiled finger into him, and Sam doesn’t _want_ to think anymore, because this is what he’s been craving all along.

He shifts, pushing Gabriel’s finger deeper into him, and Gabriel smiles against his mouth as he adds a second one. Sam grinds down a little, then moans into Gabriel’s mouth when Gabriel starts scissoring his fingers, spreading him open. The archangel pulls away, moves down to mouth along Sam’s neck, adds a third finger when Sam is so mindless with pleasure that he’s almost screaming with it.

“Now, Gabriel. Damn you, _now_ ,” he begs, and is almost surprised when Gabriel obliges him, lining up his cock and pushing into Sam without a word. Sam pushes down onto him, and then there’s only white-hot pleasure, a burning _need_ thrumming through every cell of his body. He’s panting Gabriel’s name, and the archangel leans down again, swallows his mindless babbling, takes every gasping moan, every whisper of his name, kisses Sam until he’s breathless with it as he pounds into him, and then he reaches down and grasps Sam’s cock, stroking him firmly as he continues to move in perfect rhythm inside Sam.

Sam comes almost screaming the archangel’s name, heat flashing through him, whiteness overtaking his vision, and he’s only just starting to come down from it when he feels Gabriel shudder and moan and empty inside him. “Say it,” Gabriel whispers, still trembling, and Sam knows exactly what he wants to hear.

“I’m yours. I’m yours, Gabriel, only yours, always.”

“ _Always_ ,” the archangel growls, and he attacks Sam’s mouth with his own, bringing a hand up to trace along the collar he has placed on the hunter.

Sam thinks he should care more, thinks eventually he may stop to wonder why he’s so okay with all of this, but for now, he’s content to tug Gabriel to his side, tuck the archangel against him and fall asleep feeling more content then he thinks he ever has before.


	3. Clash

Sam has felt many things about and for his brother in the past. He’s always loved him, but has spent a lot of time over the years angry with him. He’s been flabbergasted, appalled, mortified, and incredulous by some of the things Dean has done, all in equal measure. He’s felt his share of disappointment in him, and has often questioned his motives. He has, on many occasions, been afraid _for_ Dean. He has never been afraid _of_ him.

Until tonight.

He stands at the door to the motel room where Gabriel dropped him off, shivering with the cold, but unwilling to go inside, because he knows as soon as he opens his mouth to talk to Dean, he’ll be left even colder than he is now, with little hope of getting warm again.

In the end, it’s not his decision to make, because the door opens despite him not making a single move to touch it, and Dean stands blinking at him for long moments before his eyes harden. “Sam?” he finally says, his tone questioning and dark. “Where the _fuck_ have you been?”

Sam’s teeth are chattering, which makes it difficult to answer, but he does manage to say, “I’ll explain everything, just let me in,” in a very small voice. He’s suddenly grateful for the cold…it means that his flannel shirt is buttoned all the way up, his hoodie tugged over that, and a jacket zipped over _that_. Layers have always bothered him, but now they hide his secret, and he can’t help but be thankful for them.

Dean steps aside and lets him pass, jaw tight, and Sam allows himself the luxury of enjoying a few moments of blissful warmth before he turns back to his brother. “I’m sorry I up and vanished yesterday, I didn’t mean to be gone so long,” he says, an apology the best starting point he can think of.

“Yeah, well, just tell me you weren’t out somewhere sucking down bitch blood, and we’ll call it even,” Dean says, and God, Sam isn’t good enough to hide the way his features twist, the way his stomach tightens as he feels the blood burn through him, _always_ burning.

Dean catches it, because he’s Dean, and he’s been trained by the best to notice everything, to catch any lie. Of _course_ he notices, and Sam would have been more surprised if he hadn’t. It doesn’t stop him from watching in abject terror as Dean’s face _transforms_ , becomes something hard and cold and so unlike anything Sam’s ever seen before that he feels it like a punch to the gut that leaves him breathless.

“Dean, let me explain,” he says desperately, taking a step forward, ready to grab onto Dean and _force_ him to listen. Dean’s quick step backward takes the burning sensation inside him and turns it to bitter cold. “I wasn’t drinking demon blood, I swear! Please, just _listen_.”

Dean’s eyes are chips of ice, but he crosses his arms, prepared to hear Sam out, and that’s more than Sam thought he would get. “You have two minutes before I throw you out of here and you never hear from me again.”

Sam swallows, knows his brother is not bluffing, not even a little. “I went out to get help,” he says, voice soft and unsure as he stares hard at the ground. “I… I’ve been having problems, and I didn’t want you to know. The demon blood…it never really went away, and it’s been getting…harder to control it.” His eyes lift, very slowly, to Dean’s. “I was afraid if I didn’t get help, I was going to give in to Lucifer.”

Dean sucks in a quick breath, his eyes thawing just a tiny bit, and that small measure of rising trust gives Sam the strength he needs to go on, though he knows this part will be in many ways more difficult.

“I called Gabriel.”

There is perfect silence for what seems like an eternity, but is really only half a minute. Then the explosion comes.

“You _what?_ What in the _fuck_ were you thinking, Sammy! We’ve _had_ this conversation, right, about trying to talk to monsters? Because, angel or not, he’s a monster, damn it! Look at what he’s _done_ to us, to _you!_ Why are you so determined to trust this asshole!” Dean’s hands are clenched tight, and he stands rigid, but his voice probably carries two states over, and Sam can feel heat rising up his neck, stealing over his face, though he doesn’t know if it’s from embarrassment or anger or both.

“I was _thinking_ that we’re running pretty low on options!” he says, managing to stop just short of shouting. “I was thinking that _maybe_ I wanted to try to do something right for a change, before I destroy the world even more! I was thinking that _maybe_ a guy who ran away from his family to try and make it on his own and escape the fighting would be able to relate! And I was _thinking_ that maybe, just maybe, my brother would appreciate being able to trust me again! Because you don’t, Dean, not entirely. A part of you is still sure that I _will_ say yes to Lucifer, for one reason or another, and it terrifies you as much as it does me. So I took the options I had, and I worked with the one I thought would be the most help, and I’m _sorry_ I didn’t talk to you first, but I had to do this on my own!” He’s breathing hard at the end of his rant, his own hands clenched into hard fists, fingernails cutting deep crescents into his palm.

Dean holds his stance for another moment, and then sags, one hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he lets out a deep, bone-weary sigh. “So what is it you did, then?” he asks, something not unlike resignation tainting his voice.

Sam tries not to be bitter, because Dean has every right to question him and his motives and his mistakes. And he’s sure his brother will see this as just one more in a long line of them, and he tries not to be bitter about that as well. “I asked him if he had a way to keep me from becoming Lucifer’s vessel.”

Dean snorts. “Uh huh. You asked the one angel that wants this big battle to happen more than anyone if he had a way to _stop_ it from happening. Nice, Sammy. Makes perfect sense.”

“I was counting on him not wanting the world to actually end, and we all know you’re a lot less likely to say yes than I was.”

Dean catches the past tense, as Sam had known he would, and his gaze turns inquisitive. Finally, it’s an expression Sam welcomes, one that doesn’t make him feel cold and alone. “He could actually do it? You convinced him?” The slightly incredulous tone though, that Sam could do without. Even if it does make sense.

He manages a small nod, swallows hard just remembering standing out in the rain, aching and desperate and _wanting_ , angel blood thrumming through him, lust its constant companion. “He said there was a way, gave me the choice to take him up on it or not.” His eyes slide away from Dean’s, and Dean has never been slow on the uptake.

“Sammy, tell me you didn’t. Not again. Not with _him_.” There is disgust there, bitter revulsion, and not just at the thought of drinking blood. Sam meets his gaze head on and doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt.

“It’s different, Dean. It was different this time.” He keeps his eyes locked on his brother’s, begs him with nothing more than a look to believe him, to have just a little faith in him, no matter how undeserving he is. “He…it’s just the once, there’s no addiction or…powers, or anything. All it did was burn the demon blood out of me, everything that was left of it. It’s gone, Dean. Really gone.” And even in the circumstances, he can’t keep the awe from his voice at that last part, can’t keep from thinking about how amazing it feels, being rid of the darkness that has plagued him for as long as he can remember.

Dean looks skeptical, but tentatively hopeful as well, and Sam finds himself so grateful that he’s had years of practice perfecting his ability to read Dean’s expressions. “So the Trickster…Gabriel…just _let_ you do this, no strings attached? Really? C’mon, Sam, I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“There’s a condition, but it wasn’t one Gabriel set on purpose,” Sam says, and though Gabriel hasn’t explained what he meant when he said he owned Sam, Sam knows that it isn’t just the archangel’s way of claiming him by his word alone. What he did, taking in Gabriel’s blood, is binding. He can _feel_ it, as sure as he felt the demon blood burning out of him. There’s no way out of it, even if Gabriel wanted to _let_ him out. Even if he wanted to _be_ let out.

And this becomes the first moment that Sam admits to himself that he doesn’t.

Dean’s eyes are shuttered again, but he’s too exhausted, too emotionally drained to be truly edgy anymore. Sam can relate. Dean sits down on the bed behind him, leans back on his hands, sighs again. “So what’s the condition?”

He fidgets before he’s even aware that he’s doing so, and flushes when Dean raises an eyebrow. Deciding that getting it all over with now is probably his best (if not _only_ ) option, he slowly unzips his jacket, shrugs it off, pulls his hoodie and flannel off together, leaving only a plain white t-shirt and nothing hiding the collar from view.

The expression on Dean’s face can only be called gaping. His jaw hangs open, his eyes are wide and unblinking. They are both completely still, until suddenly Dean snorts, and then he’s laughing, long and loud and _harsh_. “You’re kidding right?” he chokes out, his tone darkly amused.

It’s not quite the reaction Sam expected, but he tries to take it in stride. “The blood…binds me to him, for lack of a better term… It’s not… I can’t… It’s…”

“It’s forever,” a soft voice speaks from behind him, and Sam whirls around to see Castiel standing just in front of the closed door to the room. His head is tilted, his eyes sharp and focused on the collar, which Sam instinctively reaches up to touch. “It is a binding that cannot be broken. Gabriel _owns_ Sam now, body and soul. But…”

“What?” Dean demands. “But _what?_ ”

Abruptly, Castiel looks away. “Nothing,” he says. At both Dean and Sam’s incredulous looks, he clarifies, “Nothing important, and nothing I should discuss with anyone but Gabriel. It does not concern you.” His tone indicates that that’s the last he’ll say on the matter, and while Dean doesn’t look happy, and Sam isn’t thrilled either, they both back down. Castiel looks back at Sam, his eyes piercing into the hunter’s. “I don’t know if it was a very brave or a very foolish thing you did, Sam, but I know it may turn the tide of this war, and for that I cannot help but be grateful to you.”

Dean’s on his feet again, staring hard at the angel. “You think this is a _good_ thing? My brother just bound himself to a sniveling _coward_ of an arch -”

Castiel cuts him off, standing at his full height, waves of power radiating off of him in a way that hasn’t happened since before he began his fall from grace. “You may speak what you will of my family away from me, Dean Winchester, but you will _not_ presume to do so in my presence. You know nothing of Gabriel, or of what he has done or the decisions he’s made. And what your brother chose to do was _his_ decision to make, and one that could ultimately win you this war. I will not stand to listen to you disparage either for what they have done here.”

Sam trembles before the angel, the feeling of being so close to such power both unbearably familiar, and yet so painfully different from Gabriel, and his blood is singing, burning hot and bright through him, and he craves something he can’t put words to, just knows that it has to come soon or he won’t be able to survive.

_Gabriel. Please, Gabriel._

_I’m coming, Sam,_ he hears, and doesn’t know if he’s imagining the familiar voice of the archangel in his head, but even if he is, it still calms him, slows his breathing, eases the thing that flutters inside him like a caged bird.

Dean has backed down, shocked silent by the way Castiel has so uncharacteristically stood up to him for the first time in so long. He shoots a glance at Sam, and seems to realize exactly the pressure his younger brother has been under in that moment. His body relaxes and his eyes become slightly warmer. “Okay, Sammy,” he says. “I’ll try to be okay with this, I guess. But…why a damn collar? That’s just…not right, dude.”

“Some angels just don’t like to share,” a low voice says from right behind Sam, and this time he doesn’t even have time to spin around before arms wrap around him, coming to rest clasped just over his waist.

Sam’s eyes close as everything inside him goes soft and mellow. “Gabriel,” he murmurs.

“Hey, Sammy,” the archangel says softly.

There is a strange sort of commotion, and Sam opens his eyes to see Castiel physically restraining Dean, who is mid-lunge, glaring daggers at Gabriel and trying to twist out of Castiel’s grasp. “Let go, you sonofabitch!” he growls.

Castiel is as calm as he ever is. “You only just agreed to, and I quote, ‘try to be okay with this’. The behavior you’re exhibiting is not ‘okay’, Dean. It is, in fact, quite angry. Calm down, or I’ll have no choice but to…’whammy’ you away from this room, for your own good, and for Sam’s.”

“Thank you,” Sam says, caught between fear at his brother’s reaction and amusement at how Castiel is handling it. The unexpected support of the angel is more heartening than he’d ever thought it could be. He and Castiel have never been as close as Castiel and Dean, and he’s always assumed it was because Castiel didn’t like him.

Something has obviously changed, and while he’s damn curious to know what it is aside from the obvious, he’s grateful for it no matter what the reason.

Castiel nods to him and _very_ slowly relaxes his hold on Dean. The hunter is tense, and still trying to kill Gabriel by the power of his eyes alone, but he stays where he is, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Castiel observes him for a long moment, and when he doesn’t move, he looks at Gabriel. “We need to speak,” he says, throwing a pointed glance at Sam…or more specifically, Sam’s new accessory.

“Later,” is all the archangel says in reply, and while Sam can’t see his face, he knows by the tone that Gabriel will keep his word. He wants to know _why_ he knows that, because it’s not like he has much practice reading Gabriel, but he accepts it as a part of everything else going on and moves on to other, more important things. Like how to fix this current situation.

He lightly touches Gabriel’s wrist, and the arms wrapped around him release as Gabriel steps back. He returns Sam’s grateful look with an understanding one followed by a raised eyebrow, and Sam can’t figure out why _none_ of this feels _wrong_. He looks back to Dean, notes that his brother has relaxed slightly, now that Gabriel is no longer touching him.

“Sorry, Dean,” he says quietly, running a hand through his hair. “I should have warned you he was coming.”

Dean’s glare sharpens on him. “You _knew_ he’d be back here tonight?”

“No!” Sam replies, a little defensive, because the _plan_ had been for him to not see Gabriel again for a few days, till Dean had had time to get used to the idea. Until he couldn’t take it, until he’d _needed_ the archangel there like he needed air… “I…called him here?” He makes it a question, glancing back at Gabriel, catching the look in his eyes and glowing with it. They are warm and open, sparkling with a humor that has nothing to do with being a Trickster and everything to do with _Sam_.

“Yes, Sam. Apparently, you can do that now,” Gabriel says. “Who knew?” He tosses a grin at Dean. “And hey there, Winchester! How’s it hanging?”

Sam wishes that an elbow to the solar plexus could actually do damage to an archangel, because he deserves it, for torturing Sam like this. Sam _needs_ Dean to be okay with this, because there’s no changing it, but he’s not willing to lose his brother, _can’t_ lose his brother, not again, not _ever_. And Dean’s look could melt stone right now, and he’s definitely _far_ from okay with _anything_. Castiel is watching him carefully to make sure he doesn’t do anything drastic, but that’s not what Sam needs. Sam needs real acceptance. And he doesn’t know how to obtain it, doesn’t know if he even can. Still…he has to try.

“Dean?” he says softly, tentatively. “This is Gabriel. He’s kind of a jackass, but he’s a…friend. I’d appreciate if you could try to get along with him. Gabriel, this is Dean. _Play nice_. Please.”

Dean’s face tightens like it physically pains him to do this, but at Sam’s pleading stare, he relents a little. “I ain’t shaking his goddamn hand,” he mutters, but looks away from the archangel to direct his glare to the floor until he can smooth it out a little.

It’s not a lot, but it’s _everything_ at the same time, and Sam breathes easier. When Gabriel says, very, _very_ quietly, “So, Winchester… I’m…sorry. About…well, you know. Just…all of it,” he has to hide a blinding smile, because _that_ …that’s everything, too.

Contentment flows through him, his and Gabriel’s, and he wonders in a vague, disconnected sort of way how the first time he’s ever managed to find peace is when he has lost all semblance of the freedom he once possessed, right in the middle of the damn Apocalypse.

Then Gabriel’s hand very gently touches the back of his neck, slips down to the collar to trace the line where leather meets flesh, and the moment is lost as his blood burns again. _Done playing nice now_ , he hears whispered in his mind, Gabriel’s voice already doing things to him that two days ago would have horrified him. _Taking you back, making you mine all over again. Say your goodbyes, you can fix everything else tomorrow._

Sam obeys, has no choice _but_ to obey, and would do so even if he did. Because Sam is doing something very, very stupid, something he _knows_ is stupid, but something he has no power to stop.

He has no willpower left to resist falling in love with the archangel who owns his soul.


	4. Break

Awareness comes back to him slowly, and in stages of pain. The first stage is the worst. It is all-consuming, shocking him from unconsciousness like a jolt of lightning, moving over him in waves, prickling over his skin, into his bones, through every nerve and vein. It’s pain such as Sam has never felt before, and he wonders if he can die from it. A part of him prays he can.

The second stage is more focused, a terrible, bruising pain in his gut, not unlike being kicked in the stomach with a hard boot until he vomits blood. It makes him sick and dizzy, but he is not yet responsive enough to groan out loud.

The third stage is deafening. It begins as a ringing in his ears, and it’s not until he’s sobbing with terror because his brain feels like it’s going to explode that he even realizes how loud it gets as time goes on. The noise threatens to shatter him into a thousand pieces, and it could be seconds or days later when it finally settles into a dull drone. By then, he is already little more than a trembling wreck.

The fourth and final stage is sharp, piercing, and comes only when he is finally brave enough to open his eyes. It’s like knives stabbing into his temples, twisting and unrelenting, but this pain at least is familiar, not unlike the visions he used to get, and at least this, he can manage to focus through.

Slowly, so slowly, his vision clears, and he suddenly wishes he hadn’t bothered opening his eyes at all.

 _Lucifer_.

Now that he is fully aware again, if in an excruciating amount of pain, he can feel the cuffs on his wrists, holding his arms above his head. He can feel his back pressed into the cold stone of the wall behind him. He can feel the blood dripping from various wounds that he imagines must have been inflicted during a struggle he can no longer remember. He is completely naked except for the comforting weight of the collar at his throat, bound tighter than he has any hope of escaping from, and there is something missing, some gaping hole in his chest that tears at him like a sucking wound, and he knows somehow that that’s the place he can normally sense Gabriel now. Fear tightens his throat, but he tries to stay focused, tries not to let the terror that claws at his throat overwhelm him as he assesses the situation.

Lucifer is sitting in a chair across the dank, desolate room, hands folded together over his knees as he does nothing but watch Sam. A single overhead light flickers erratically as it casts everything in a pallor glow. The sickly light brings out the worst of Lucifer’s vessel’s features, the way the skin is burning and peeling away, the way the eyes are sunken and wretched-looking. Nick is withering away, and Sam is overcome by the knowledge that he went to Gabriel not a moment too soon. Lucifer will soon be growing desperate.

“How did you find me?” the hunter finally asks, and for a moment, he can’t believe that that throaty croak is _his_ voice. He wonders how long he’s been here, wonders what exactly happened that left such a gap in his memory.

He wonders again where Gabriel is, and that’s when Lucifer laughs.

It’s a pleasant laugh, nothing at all like Sam thinks the ruler of Hell should sound like. Everything _about_ Lucifer seems pleasant and calm and collected, and somehow, seeing that is so much worse than seeing the rage that Sam knows he must be feeling.

“Oh, Sam,” he says. “I’ve been able to locate you for some time.” A cold shiver worms its way up Sam’s spine, and he watches Lucifer’s eyes darken like storm clouds. “Since Carthage, actually. I was waiting for the opportune moment to take you, convince you of what was best. Six months was never just a guess, Sam, it was a _plan_. From the moment you appeared in that town and I felt your presence, I began tracking you. A sliver of grace attached to your brother’s car, something neither of you would ever notice. Small enough that even Castiel, with his dwindling powers, would miss it entirely. Six months I was going to wait, until the world was so bad that you would feel you had no choice but to end things once and for all. Apparently, I waited too long. My first and last mistake.”

Sam wants to vomit with the sudden knowledge that Lucifer could have had him at any given moment. But he can’t start thinking about _what ifs_ , not now, not in this moment where he’s inches away from torture or death or, more likely, both. He _wasn’t_ too slow in going to Gabriel, and Lucifer _did_ take too long, and things worked out because he _can’t_ be a vessel any longer, and no matter what happens to him now, there’s incredible solace in that bit of knowledge.

But he still desperately needs to know where Gabriel is, because if Sam’s here, and the last thing he remembers is falling asleep sated and happy and curled into the archangel… He swallows hard, trying not to think about it too deeply. It won’t accomplish anything, and will only serve to stress him out more, making any chance of escape even more impossible than it already seems to be. But that void in his chest is crushing, and he _needs_ Gabriel, needs his reassurance and his laughter and the light in his eyes and –

 _Damn it, Sam, get a grip!_ he tells himself angrily, and his spine straightens as he focuses a glare on Lucifer. If he’s going to go down, he’ll go down as himself, righteous and defiant, not as some weeping ball of cowardice. Sam’s been many things, but a coward has never been one of them, and wherever Gabriel is (because Sam refuses to believe he’s dead, won’t even think it because he’ll break, and he can’t afford that right now), the archangel wouldn’t want Sam to give in to the fear tangled up inside him now.

“Nothing to say?” Lucifer asks with a raised brow. “Nothing you want to ask me, nothing you desire to know? Well then, do you mind if I ask you something?”

Sam doesn’t answer, just continues to focus on breathing, in and out, in and out, trying to ignore the pain in his muscles and his chest as his lungs expand and contract.

Lucifer stands, walks steadily to where Sam is held tightly to the wall, his hands stretched as high as they can go without pulling his arms out of their sockets, his legs spread about a foot apart and chained by his ankles to the wall. Sam can’t shy away as the devil reaches out a hand, runs his finger along the collar, he can only gasp and cry out at the lightning bolt of pain he feels in that cavity in his chest.

Chuckling darkly, Lucifer takes a single step back. “I was curious to know if you’re aware of what that little…accessory means?”

Again, Sam stays silent, breathing harshly through the pain that goes deeper than skin, deeper than bone, deeper even than his body. It is soul deep and devastating, and it has something to do with his connection to Gabriel.

“You don’t, do you?” Lucifer asks, tilting his head just slightly. “My brother didn’t tell you what the sigils burned into it mean. That’s very like him, to hide the truth when it really counts.” He smiles that same calm, focused smile, and it makes Sam shudder with a terror he can’t fully explain. “I suppose that leaves it to me to explain then. You need to understand, it’s very rare for an angel to bind a human to them by blood. It hasn’t happened in millennia. What Gabriel did is practically unheard of.”

Sam doesn’t like where this is going, doesn’t want to know what it is Lucifer is about to tell him, but he doesn’t have a choice in the matter, can’t block his ears from learning whatever truth is about to come spewing forth. He tenses, braces himself for the worst.

“There are no words in the English language to accurately translate the meaning of that _thing_ you wear. But what the sigils essentially mean is that you are not the only one bound, here. It was not just blood you consumed, but grace as well.” Lucifer’s voice lowers to almost a purr, and he steps forward again, right into Sam’s space, hot breath tickling across his ear. “It means that he belongs to you as well.”

The sob claws its way out of Sam’s throat, and he can’t stop the tear that tracks its way down his cheek. He’d have wanted to learn this from Gabriel, he’d have wanted to know from him. Learning it this way taints it, makes the knowledge something darker than what it really is. Because what it _really_ means is that somehow, some way, the archangel cared about Sam _before_ , before Sam came to him begging for help. That he gave some small measure of himself to Sam, just as Sam gave himself wholly to Gabriel.

But Lucifer is still talking, and now his fingers are digging into Sam’s hip, hard and bruising and merciless, and Sam is forced to keep listening. “And what _that_ means is that, as bad as this is going to be for you, Sam, it’s going to be much, much worse for him…trapped in a ring of holy fire with no chance of escape, and able to feel _everything_ I’m about to do to you.”

Sam thinks he should be petrified, hearing Lucifer speak about whatever it is he’s about to torture Sam with…but that fear is overwhelmed by the sheer _relief_ that flows through him at the knowledge that Gabriel is alive, that he’s whole and okay and just trapped where his grace can’t possibly reach out to Sam. Sam can take anything Lucifer throws at him, as long as he knows that Gabriel is okay. His resolve strengthens, and he shoots a cocky glare at the devil. “You talk big, but so far, you haven’t given me much reason to think you’re anything more than a whiny kid who didn’t get his way a long time ago and can’t let it go.”

The fury that Sam has been expecting all along suddenly makes an appearance, and Lucifer growls. For a second, Sam thinks he’s going to strike him, and he braces himself as much as he can against the blow, but it never comes. Instead, one slim finger reaches out again, brushes along the collar, and that same flare of sharp pain in his chest leaves him gasping brokenly.

“If you wanted to make me angry, Sam, you didn’t have to try too hard.” The hand moves down, spreads open, presses against Sam’s chest, and it’s like red-hot needles are pressing everywhere into his skin, the sensation making him scream before he can think to stifle it. “It’s a funny thing, the grace of an angel. When they give a part of it to a human, that human is bound to them for eternity. To be touched at all by another’s grace afterwards is… Well. You must be gaining some idea.” His fingers grip into claws, digging into Sam’s chest, right over his tattoo, and he can’t breathe through the agony. “You were _mine_ , Sam Winchester. What gives you the _right_ to forget that and give yourself over to another?”

The only answer Sam can give are the same breathless sobs, and Lucifer finally pulls away a little, staring at the hunter consideringly as he pants and shudders. “Go back…to… _Hell_ ,” he manages to choke out between breaths, and Lucifer laughs long and loud.

“Oh, perhaps someday, I will. But for right now, I prefer being right here, doing exactly what I’m doing.” He reaches out, tilts Sam’s chin up so that he’s looking him right in the eye. “I can no longer take you the way I was meant to, the way destiny foretold it. But there are plenty of other ways I can take you instead. If you think _this_ was some kind of torture, it is nothing to what you will experience before we’re through.”

And now Sam is far more than frightened…he’s horrified beyond anything he’s ever known, in a life that has been full of horror that comes in all shapes and sizes, because what Lucifer is talking about is…

He can’t even think the word, can only tremble and force down the sickness trapped in his throat. He wants to beg, every nerve ending in his body is screaming for him to beg, but he won’t, he _can’t_ , because that’s what Lucifer wants, what he’s always wanted. So he remains silent and scared, his body still aching, his mind fracturing more and more as the moments tick by.

Lucifer is allowing the fear to overtake him completely, he can feel the devil’s grace stretching to monitor Sam’s mood, and it hurts just as much as Lucifer actually touching him, maybe even more, because this is the feeling of pure grace, unhampered by human skin getting in the way, and it burns agonizingly through him where it interacts with Gabriel’s own grace and blood.

When Sam is little more than a broken shell, held up only by the chains binding him tightly and none of his own strength, Lucifer waves a hand, and there is a clicking metallic sound as the manacles open and Sam drops heavily to the ground.

He curls in on himself, hugging his arms tightly around his stomach, moaning as fire lances through him, but he isn’t allowed to remain that way for long. Strong hands grip him and lift him almost effortlessly, and then his hands are forced back into the cuffs, only now he’s facing the other direction, his stomach pressed against the unrelenting stone wall, his face slammed into it hard enough to break bones. Indeed, he hears the crunch of something shatter, sharp agony spreading out from where his cheekbone was smashed. But even that pain is bearable compared to what rips through his chest every time Lucifer touches him.

The devil is spreading his legs apart again, further than they were before, and he’s not going for the chains by the floor this time, but Sam is too weak, too broken to fight, can’t even _think_ past the hole gouging itself out of his very soul as Lucifer continues to touch him and surround him with his twisted grace. He can’t even hold himself up, only the manacles at his wrists keeping him from slumping to the ground again, and they bite into flesh, cutting deeply enough to bleed where the pressure is too much.

When Lucifer presses against him full-body, flesh meeting flesh _everywhere_ , he screams, loud and desperate and howling, and the only answer is Lucifer’s dark laughter. The hard line of his cock is pressed firmly into Sam’s back, and his arms circle to Sam’s front, hands rubbing all the most sensitive places on his chest before one moves lower and grazes along his own dick. It is a parody of the position Sam and Gabriel were in when he first saw the collar, when he first accepted that mark of ownership Gabriel placed on him, and it makes him weep even through the screams tearing at his throat.

“If you will not be mine by grace, then you will be mine by body,” Lucifer growls in his ear, and even through his own cries, Sam hears every word spoken into the deepest parts of his being. “But rest assured, Sam, you _will_ be mine, one way or another.” And Sam believes him, knows there’s no way out, nothing he can do to fight, and what’s left of his soul threatens to crack apart at this final acceptance that he is about to lose himself entirely...

…Until there is suddenly a flash of light, so bright that even with his eyes closed and his faced turned into the wall, it stabs into Sam’s eyes with the power of the sun, the sheer brilliance making him see stars behind his eyelids, before a deceptively calm voice says, “Take your hands off him. _Now_.”

Lucifer stills, pulls back, but Sam doesn’t notice because Sam is suddenly floating on the sound of that voice, the sound of Gabriel, and that aching hole in his chest is _gone_ , full now of pulsing light and endless warmth and there’s still pain, so much pain, but _Gabriel is here_ , and everything is right with the world. Sam thinks he may be weeping, but he’s too thankful to care, and calm, such wonderful calm is flowing through him now that the archangel is with him.

“Gabriel,” Lucifer says, voice low and dangerous. “How did you escape?”

He can’t see his archangel, but he pictures a careless shrug, a wide smirk, and a voice that says something like, “Well, I _am_ the Trickster.” It’s nothing close to the reality though. The reality is Gabriel’s voice soothing him where he’s been rubbed raw as he says only, “Leave _now_ and I’ll let you go without consequence. You have ten seconds, brother.” That voice, that beautiful voice, is soft and emotionless, but Sam can feel the waves of roiling anger coming off of him, can feel his unbridled fury, his terror at almost being too late, his worry for the hunter he’s claimed.

Lucifer laughs, but Sam thinks it sounds unsure now. “You think you can best me, _brother?_ You are weak, and you’ve been far from the Host for too long. You have no hope of beating me.”

“I think that even if I’m not as powerful as Michael, you won’t take the chance that I might weaken you. You won’t risk it, with what looms on the horizon, because you’re a coward, when it comes right down to it. Your ten seconds are up, Lucifer.”

Lucifer’s bellow of wrath sends new slivers of fear sparking throughout Sam’s entire being, but then there is the sound of wingbeats, and he is gone, leaving a ringing silence in his wake.

It’s not a silence that lasts very long. “Sam…” Gabriel’s voice has none of the calm it possessed when he was speaking to his brother. Now it is wrecked, shattered in ways that stab at Sam’s heart, because Gabriel should never sound that way, not for him. There is the familiar sound of a snap, and the manacles spring open, and Sam is falling, but this time he is caught in warm arms, lowered gently into the archangel’s embrace as he kneels on the floor, Sam’s upper body held tightly against his chest as he lets out a single harsh sob where his face is pressed into Sam’s hair.

“Gabriel,” Sam murmurs, but can’t get any farther because everything hurts so much, and his cheekbone is still broken, and his face feels bruised everywhere.

“Shh, I’m here Sam,” Gabriel says. “God, look at you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sam, I couldn’t get out, I couldn’t get to you even when he was hurting you, even when...” A warm hand trails up to his face, presses to it with the gentlest of touches, and a feeling like rapture spreads out from his fingertips. Broken skin knits together, fractured bones become whole again, and Sam gasps at the sensation. The cold areas where Lucifer’s grace sliced bits of agony out of him are melted away, filled with the grace of the archangel who owns him, and his soul brightens more with every passing moment.

His hand reaches up to Gabriel’s, closes around it, and he tilts his head to gaze up at the archangel. He can’t form the words for what he wants to say, can’t make his voice work past the lump in his throat at the look in Gabriel’s eyes, but when he turns his head just slightly and presses a warm kiss to his palm, he feels a full-body shudder go through him.

“Sam…”

“You’re acting like you failed me, Gabriel,” the hunter says quietly, his eyes closed as he breathes in the feeling of safety and comfort. “You didn’t.” He takes another breath, lets it out slowly, feeling the new holes inside of him that may never be made right again. He’ll learn to live with them, learn to get past them. Lucifer broke him open, but Gabriel is putting him back together, and eventually, he’ll be okay again. He has to be. “Lucifer…told me something,” he whispers.

“I know what he told you,” Gabriel replies, his hand tightening almost unnoticeably. “He…didn’t lie, but it’s a bit more complicated than what he told you, Sam. Now’s not the time -”

“I know, I know it’s not,” Sam says, pushing himself up just enough to turn so that he’s facing Gabriel, his body stronger, at least physically, every minute. The surface wounds are already gone, healed over with not even a scar to remind him. “Just…it means something to me, all of this. I need you to know that, that it’s not just about convenience, or ownership, or…whatever, anymore. I belong to you, in every way possible, and I’ll never fight that…but I care about you, too.” _I love you_ , remains unspoken, but he thinks Gabriel hears it anyway.

He doesn’t expect to see the tortured expression on the archangel’s face, doesn’t like the feeling of anguish he can sense between them. “Sam, what you think you’re feeling isn’t _real_ ,” Gabriel whispers brokenly, and for the first time Sam can remember, there isn’t even a shadow of his Trickster persona anywhere in his eyes or voice or countenance. “It’s a by-product of this bond that I all but forced on you, of the blood and the grace I gave you, nothing else.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Sam’s voice is insistent, and he pushes himself up straighter, pulls away from Gabriel and watches his hands fall to his sides. “Wherever this came from, whatever started it doesn’t matter anymore. I _gave_ myself to you, wholly and unconditionally, knowing full well what that meant, and it’s forever, there’s no getting out of it. Wherever this feeling originated, it’s not _going_ to go away, so it _doesn’t matter to me_. Gabriel, I let you put a _collar_ on me, I _welcomed_ it, I _liked_ it. Doesn’t that mean something to you?”

Gabriel’s shaking his head, but it’s disbelief, not denial that causes him to do so. “I don’t…how can you even…”

The time for words is clearly over, so Sam shifts forward, tugs Gabriel closer, and leans down to press his lips against the archangel’s, swallowing his words the same way he wishes he could swallow the misery behind them. Gabriel remains completely motionless, but moans a little when Sam forces his mouth open, licks his way inside, tangles their tongues together and draws Gabriel’s into his own mouth. His hand is on Gabriel’s shoulder, drawing him closer, pressing them together, and he’s still naked, but this isn’t about sex, this is about reassurance, about comfort and faith and _love_ , and it’s about both of them.

Gabriel is trembling when they finally pull apart, his eyes wide and unfocused until Sam’s hand runs through his hair and his gaze sharpens on the hunter, his mouth gaping open just a little. “I belong to _you_ , Gabriel,” Sam says, voice soft and sure. “I don’t want it any other way, this is my life now. I’m _happy_ and I _love_ you. I love _you_ , Gabriel, always. _Always_.”

The archangel draws in a sharp breath, his eyes closing as his head bows. Sam watches him through his silence that lasts for minutes or hours, does not try to speak as Gabriel tries to believe all that he’s already said. When he finally looks back up, his expression holds traces of the archangel-turned-Trickster that Sam has come to know, and there is acceptance in his eyes, a small smile on his lips.

He reaches up, fingers lighting on the collar. Sigils burn underneath his fingertips with the light of his grace, and what tightness still remains on his face melts away. “ _Mine_ ,” he whispers softly, fiercely. His eyes dance when Sam laughs out his agreement.


	5. Claim

_Soft._

Gabriel’s fingers trace gentle patterns over his skin, and Sam is breathless, arching into each touch because he can’t help himself. He craves more, craves _everything_ , but all Gabriel will give him are these feather-light touches that send sparks of sensation skittering down his spine and through his veins. The archangel’s hand glides down his side, rests for a brief moment on his hip, then traces back up, running patterns over his chest. He leans down and places a gentle kiss to Sam’s lips as his fingers flick over his nipple, and Sam moans into his mouth, his hands fisting into the bedcovers, allowing Gabriel as much control as he wants.

_Slow._

The archangel takes his time preparing Sam, though they both know he doesn’t need to. His hand slides between Sam’s legs, and one oil-slicked finger presses against his entrance, teasing lightly while Sam writhes with anticipation. When he finally pushes the finger in, Sam shudders out a soft breath, his head thrown back as he feels Gabriel skillfully open him slowly, so slowly.

_Bright._

When he can no longer take it, Sam shifts, brings his feet up to lock around Gabriel’s waist. His hands catch at the archangel’s shoulders and he surges up even as he pulls Gabriel down, bringing them together in a kiss that leaves him dazed and desperate, their mouths hot and slick against one another’s. There are flashes of light behind Sam’s closed eyes, shards of grace within him, reacting to Gabriel being so close, so much a part of him, and as Gabriel finally pushes in, some part of Sam’s world explodes in heat and sensation and radiance.

_Ecstasy._

The fears and hurts and tortured memories of the past day are washed away as Gabriel reclaims him with all that he is, all that he’s ever been, and Sam gives himself over as willingly now as he has since this began between them. He pumps in and out of Sam steadily, losing himself in Sam just as much as Sam is losing himself in Gabriel. One hand tangles in Gabriel’s hair as he winds his tongue around the archangel’s, pressing tightly against him, as though trying to merge them into one being. Gabriel quakes against him, and they break each other apart slowly.

_Essence._

Sam leans up as he feels himself begin to spiral, nips lightly at Gabriel’s ear, whispers, “I’m yours. Always, only yours, Gabriel,” in a voice filled with everything he feels in his heart, in his _soul_. Gabriel buries his face in Sam’s neck, makes a noise that barely sounds human low in his throat. Light surrounds him, fills the room, and Sam can’t close his eyes, can’t look away as they come apart simultaneously, his cry mingling with Gabriel’s. The light burns into his eyes, but it’s not painful, not _harmful_ , and for just a few moments, he sees the outline of wings spread behind Gabriel. They tremble, burning with fire and light and brilliance, arching over the archangel and his hunter, protective and beautiful and so much a part of Gabriel that Sam wonders how he’s ever appeared natural without them.

“Sam…” Gabriel murmurs, gazing down at him with such reverence that Sam is left breathless all over again as the light fades and the wings slowly vanish from sight. Gabriel reaches a hand up, traces his fingers over Sam’s cheek, trails them down to his neck, strokes them lightly over the collar that flares with grace every time he touches it. His eyes close and he leans down, presses his forehead to Sam’s. “What have you done to me?” he asks, and Sam doesn’t answer, _can’t_ answer, can only cling tightly to the archangel and breathe words of love into his skin that Gabriel is not yet ready to repeat back.

~*~

Neither of them is sleeping, but Gabriel is curled into him, Sam’s arm wrapped around him, running his hand up and down the archangel’s arm as he breathes in his scent – something earthy and powerful and as old as time itself. He is sated and content and _happy_ , and it’s so different from how he first found himself when he awoke in the place where Lucifer had him that he wonders for a brief moment if it was all just a terrible nightmare.

But Lucifer’s words are still there in his head, his touch still etched into his memory, and that agony can’t be something his imagination created because he has nothing to compare it to, nothing his mind could have created it from. He sighs deeply, buries his face in Gabriel’s hair and allows his body to relax in all the places it has tensed while he remembers.

“Stop thinkin’ so loud,” Gabriel says quietly into Sam’s shoulder. “He’s not here now, won’t get that chance again. I won’t let him.”

“I know.” And he does. He _does_ know, but that doesn’t help the memories fade, doesn’t quiet Lucifer’s voice in his mind. And something keeps niggling at him, something he can’t quite put his finger on. He closes his eyes, runs his mind over the events of the past couple of days, tries not to let the memories overwhelm him. Gabriel’s hand on his chest grounds him, his soft breath against Sam’s skin keeps him in the here and now, and he stays quiet, allowing Sam to work through whatever he needs to in his head.

_It’s a funny thing, the grace of an angel. When they give a part of it to a human, that human is bound to them for eternity._

Sam sits upright, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as that particular memory hits him and sparks something else in his mind. “Oh my God,” he whispers. “No…there’s no way…No _fucking way_ …”

“Sam?” Gabriel asks, propping himself up on an elbow, sharp eyes piercing into the hunter. “What’s up? Is something wrong?”

Sam shakes his head slowly, not an answer, just trying to clear the fog in his brain, because what he’s thinking _has_ to be impossible. “Gabriel… The way your grace affects me, that’s because of your blood, right?” he asks, speaking slowly, trying to put all his jumbled thoughts into some semblance of order.

Gabriel tilts his head curiously, but nods. “The blood intensifies it, almost exponentially. The bond would exist without it, but not nearly to the degree that it does. Just as a blood-bond alone would be vastly different, as well. Why?”

“Is it possible that _without_ the blood connection, a human wouldn’t realize they were bound to an angel?”

The confusion on Gabriel’s face clears and he smirks a little. “Ah. Figured it out, have you? About Dean and Castiel?”

Sam can only gape at him for long moments. “You…but…Cas never…”

Gabriel places a finger over Sam’s mouth, effectively silencing him. “Castiel has never mentioned it because Dean doesn’t know.” He sits up fully with a sigh. “Yes, you’re right, everything you were thinking. Castiel used part of his grace to heal Dean’s soul from Hell. Yes, there is a bond between him and Dean. But it’s weak…he’s not an archangel, and in any case, his grace is fading because he’s been cut off from the Host for too long.”

“But Dean -”

“Castiel doesn’t want him to know. He won’t force a bond on your brother that he never asked for. And arguing that the bond is there whether Dean knows or not won’t get you anywhere either, trust me.”

Sam’s brow furrows as he contemplates. “The bond they have, it isn’t strong enough to prevent Dean from being a vessel, is it?”

Gabriel snorts. “Not even remotely. A blood bond…that might do it, even with Castiel as weak as he is. A blood bond strengthened by grace is pretty powerful.” He gives a small grin full of self-derision. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed. But what they have now, on it’s own…that could never be enough.”

Sam nods, understanding, his mind working overtime, before he slides his eyes over to Gabriel’s again. “Gabriel…I think you need to tell me more about _our_ bond. Lucifer…” He swallows, blinks when a warm hand covers his own and warmth suffuses his entire being. He gives the archangel a small, grateful smile and, strengthened, continues. “Lucifer said that the bond was different because of your grace. He said…”

_It means that he belongs to you as well._

The voice slithers through his memory, and Gabriel must hear it, or sense it somehow, because he draws back and sighs, gazing at Sam tiredly. “Guess you have a right to know. I probably should have told you to begin with.”

“So tell me now,” Sam says. Pleads.

Gabriel nods, shifting so that he’s sitting with his legs crossed indian-style, hands folded in front of him. “You already know that the blood binds you to me, irrevocably, forever. If you somehow missed that from when _I_ told you, I’m pretty sure Castiel would’ve mentioned it as well.” Sam nods, but remains silent, content to simply listen. “My grace doesn’t change that. You’re still _mine_ ,” he says, almost fiercely, his eyes boring into Sam’s, and the hunter’s lips quirk upwards as he gives another nod. Gabriel nods as well, almost like he’s reassuring himself, and takes a breath. “My grace binds me to a lesser degree. I can feel you, all the time, if you’re hurt, or scared, or…well, pretty much any strong emotion. That’s why we have the telepathy thing going on now. It’s why I can find you, anywhere, even with those sigils burned into your ribs. My grace makes me yours…makes me your guardian, your protector, whatever you want to call it.”

“So…which part of the bond is it that makes me feel like this?” Sam asks tentatively, taking Gabriel’s hand and pressing it to his heart. He hates the expression Gabriel wears, the way the pain cuts deep into his eyes, but he needs to know.

“Both, sort of,” Gabriel says, voice strangled. He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t move at all. He’s completely rigid, and Sam wants to smooth all of those taut lines out, wants to ease the sadness and the tension in Gabriel’s face and show him the pure joy and euphoria that Sam feels when he thinks of their bond, but he needs answers first, needs to know, even if none of them make a difference in the long run. “The blood alone makes you all but incapable of defying me, in anything. Fighting it would…hurt you. Probably terribly. You would be compelled to do all that I asked, without question. My grace…eases that, because I’ve given back, and it balances the bond a little. That compulsion though, it’s still there, just easier to ignore, to pass off as your own feelings. And my grace…well, in the same way your body reacts negatively to the presence of another grace, it reacts positively to mine, because the bond recognizes it. It’s all pretty complicated, and there aren’t really words in English I can use to describe it.”

“It’s okay, I think I've got it,” Sam says. “Castiel, he knew about this, right? Because of the collar?”

Gabriel shrugs, tries to pull away but Sam won’t let him. “I don’t share well with others,” he mumbles. “Any angel will read that and know that I’ve claimed you. Know that there’s no breaking the bond, and know that I’ll do anything in my power to keep harm from coming to you. Kill, if I have to. Die, if it comes down to it.” The last is said so quietly that Sam, sitting right beside the archangel, has to strain to hear it.

“Gabriel,” he whispers. “Why? Why’d you do it? I…gave myself to you, without question. Never asked for this in return. Never _would_ have.”

“I didn’t plan it,” Gabriel says, and he does pull back now, and Sam lets him. His hands clench into fists on his legs. “I wanted you, Sam. Wanted to have you, wanted to _own_ you, needed that, to know that you were mine. For a long time, I’ve wanted that, and when you came to me… It was too easy.” Sam’s eyes go a little wide, but he doesn’t ask how long, knows that Gabriel needs to keep some of his secrets. Someday, maybe, but not now. For now, he stays silent and lets Gabriel continue. “And then it was finally happening, and I could feel it, when you first took my blood, I could feel it binding you to me, could literally _feel_ your will slipping away and I…just didn’t want that to happen. I wanted you to be _you_ still, I wanted… Hell, I don’t even know anymore. I wanted to make sure Lucifer couldn’t take you, but it wasn’t for the world, it wasn’t even for _my_ sake. It was for yours. And in that instant that I wanted to _protect_ you, not just _own_ you, a bit of my grace slipped away and you took it in along with my blood. It happened before I was even really aware of it.”

Sam can _feel_ the war that wages itself inside Gabriel, even now, and his eyes are soft and sure as he tilts the archangel’s face to his and leans forward, presses his mouth to Gabriel’s and tells him without words that he’s not going anywhere, doesn't _want_ to, even now. Especially now. Gabriel makes a sound that could be a sob, and Sam presses forward harder, wrapping an arm around Gabriel and tugging him closer. When he finally does pull away, just a little, Gabriel looks away. “Gabriel…” Sam starts, but he’s interrupted almost immediately.

“I can’t get rid of the bond,” the archangel says quietly. “It’s impossible. But…I can try to suppress it. You’d barely even know it was there. Theoretically.”

Sam gives a soft snort. “You’re such an idiot,” he says, fondly, smirking when Gabriel’s eyes whip up to his. “We’re _both_ completely damaged, you know, and maybe that’s why this works. Do I in any way look like I don’t want this? Want you?”

Gabriel’s eyes close and he shudders out a breath. “I told you before, that it’s not -”

“And I told _you_ it didn’t matter,” Sam interjects before Gabriel can finish. “There’s only one thing I want you to do right now.”

Gabriel’s eyes open, turn wary as they refocus on the hunter. “What?”

Sam’s eyes are dark, determined. He knows what he wants, it’s only a matter of convincing Gabriel, and he doesn’t know how easy that will be. “That compulsion thing that you’re so sure I can’t fight? I want you to show me.”

Gabriel’s jaw _drops_. “I don’t… You can’t… _What?_ ”

Sam folds his arms, gives a careless shrug, keeps his smirk internal when he watches Gabriel’s eyes turn just a small bit stormy. “I don’t buy it. I don’t think it’s really as powerful as you’re trying to make it seem.”

“You don’t want to go there, Winchester,” Gabriel says, a warning tone in his voice that Sam blatantly ignores.

“If you’re really as powerful as you claim, then prove it, Gabriel.”

Gabriel knows what he’s doing, knows he’s trying to rile him, and they _both_ know it’s working. The archangel is as powerless against the rising tide inside him as Sam is against the wanting it, wanting _all_ of it. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into here,” he says, a repeat of a warning already given once, what seems like so long ago.

“Then show me,” Sam challenges, and he feels the power rising around Gabriel like a storm, his skin prickling with it, his entire being _flooded_ with it.

When Gabriel speaks again, there’s a commanding tone to his voice that Sam has never heard before, and there truly is no fighting it. “Down,” he says, and Sam shivers with it. “On your stomach.”

Sam obeys before he’s even aware of it, Gabriel’s voice spiraling through him, echoing through every part of his consciousness. “God,” he says, already desperately hard.

He can’t see Gabriel, but he feels what the archangel is feeling. The wonder of all of it, the awe at Sam’s willingness, the _fear_ at his complete and unwavering trust. The lust at the knowledge that Sam truly is his for the taking. His for the _claiming_. He can feel the exact moment Gabriel gives in to his desires.

Gabriel shifts, glides over the few feet that separate them. He presses a hand to Sam’s back, rubs gently. “Lift your hips,” he says, and Sam does. With a snap of his fingers, Gabriel materializes two pillows and places them under Sam’s body, positioning him so that his ass is in the air, his to take whenever he’s ready.

“God, Gabriel -”

“Hush,” the archangel commands. “No speaking from you for the duration of this…little game. You’re to stay still and silent.”

Sam quiets immediately, the words he wanted to say just vanishing from his tongue. He buries his face in a pillow, breathing shallowly to try to calm the waves of need inside him.

“That’s good, Sam,” Gabriel breathes, his hand tracing spiraling patterns up and down Sam’s back, over his sides, moving to trail briefly over his ass. Sam’s muscles clench, anticipation flooding him. “Look at you, so desperate for me. No idea how incredible you are, Sam. I think you could come just from this, just from imagining what I could do to you, couldn’t you?”

Sam makes a tiny, pained whimpering sound, and Gabriel shushes him gently.

“You won’t, though. You’re not allowed to come until I tell you to. Understand? Nod if you do.”

Sam nods frantically.

“Good.” Gabriel is behind him now, framing his hips with his hands. He breathes soft puffs of air onto Sam’s skin, presses open-mouthed kisses along his ass, kissing his way up, climbing over Sam to nip biting kisses along his spine. Sam writhes, tries to suppress it, breathes harshly instead of crying out when Gabriel is draped over him, biting and sucking at his neck. “You’re being so good, Sam,” he whispers into Sam’s ear. “Just like I thought.” He nips at the shell of his ear, and Sam jerks. Gabriel huffs out a breath of laughter as he slides back down. “Spread yourself further for me,” he says, nudging gently at Sam’s legs.

The hunter obeys without question, and Gabriel bestows a suckling kiss to his hip as a reward. Then he moves to the crack of Sam’s ass, licks gently, and despite the sounds that it actually pains him to keep locked inside, Sam stays silent, taking only what Gabriel will give. Gabriel gently spreads his cheeks, tongue licking deeper, probing now at his entrance, and Sam tries desperately to stay perfectly still, terrified of the idea of Gabriel stopping.

The archangel laughs again, flicking his tongue lightly before pulling out. “You’re allowed to move a _little_ , Sam,” he says, and then dives back in, tongue pressing deeper, and Sam bucks forward on a gasp, awareness flooding him. He can feel Gabriel _everywhere_ , inside him, all around him, and it’s somehow more intense than he’s ever felt before. He knows it’s because he’s willingly given this last thing to Gabriel, turned over his free will as though it means nothing to him.

And it doesn’t. Not compared to having Gabriel himself. He’s given Gabriel everything, up to and including his very soul, and he wishes there were more he could give.

Gabriel must hear his thoughts, because he groans, pulls out, suddenly impatient as he climbs back up, lines himself up. “You won’t touch yourself, Sam. You’re going to come from this alone, do you hear me? I’m going to make you come just from the sound of my voice and the feel of me inside you, but you’re not allowed to until I tell you.”

Sam nods. He remembers. And he doesn’t doubt Gabriel’s words at all, has been teetering at the brink since Gabriel gave that first order. The sound of his voice _more_ than enough to send Sam over the edge, but Gabriel told him not to yet, and he’ll do everything in his power to obey.

Gabriel leans down and presses a soft kiss to Sam’s shoulder blade as he finally pushes in, no further preparation necessary, Sam slick and warm and ready. Gabriel fills him, and there’s no gentleness, just frantic thrusts, and heat, and ecstasy that fills him as he fights to stay silent. He pushes back, meeting the archangel thrust for thrust, stars sparking behind his eyes as Gabriel hits his prostrate with every push, goes deeper with every shove. Sam is achingly hard, already leaking precome and his dick hasn’t been touched. Gabriel murmurs words that don’t sound like English, in a voice that’s desperate and hard and demanding, and Sam knows he’s close, knows that even a being as powerful as he is can’t hold on much longer.

“Now,” Gabriel commands, shoving forward. “Come for me _now_ , Sam.”

And Sam does, is powerless to do anything else. He comes blindingly hard, falling forward onto his elbows as he feels Gabriel empty inside him, the archangel trembling and breathing harshly and still whispering in a language Sam has no hope of understanding.

He thinks he maybe blacks out for a moment or two, because the next thing he’s aware of, the pillows beneath his hips have vanished, and he’s lying on his side, Gabriel wrapped around him, still _inside_ him, and Sam relishes in the sense of completion he feels. He longs to whisper the archangel’s name, to tell him everything he’s feeling, but his words haven’t been returned to him, so he contents himself with grasping Gabriel’s hand where it’s curled around to his stomach and drawing it up, pressing lingering kisses to the knuckles.

Gabriel lets out a shaky breath against his neck and clutches Sam tighter. “What are you feeling, Sam?” he asks. “Tell me. Please.”

The _please_ undoes him, and he closes his eyes on a soft sigh. “Love. There’s nothing else, just love. It’s… God, it’s so intense, I can’t even…” It pains Sam to pull away, to feel Gabriel slide out of him, but he needs to be facing the archangel now. He turns in Gabriel’s arms, kisses him with all of the intensity he feels. “I’ve never felt anything like this, Gabriel. It _burns_. What you do to me…”

“This really isn’t going away, is it? You’re really mine, forever.” Gabriel looks as though he can’t believe the words he’s speaking, looks _broken_ by them.

Sam curls a hand around his face, his thumb rubbing gently at the Gabriel’s cheek. “That’s what I’ve heard,” he says gently. “I don’t want it any other way. Someday I’ll get you to believe that.”

Gabriel reaches up, catches Sam’s hand with his own. His eyes are bright and piercing and sharp with meaning as they gaze into the hunter’s. “Sam,” he whispers, and Sam’s breath catches, because Gabriel doesn’t have to say it, Sam already knows, can already sense everything Gabriel is feeling like a bright, pulsating beacon between them.

He nods, not taking his eyes from the archangel’s for a single moment. “I know. I know, Gabriel.”

And no further words are necessary as they sink into each other, mouths pressed together, tongues sliding and tangling, a dance they have perfected over the last few weeks. Gabriel’s hand falls away, glides down to clutch Sam’s hip possessively, hard enough to bruise, but Sam doesn’t mind. He wears each mark Gabriel bestows on him proudly, enjoys reliving the memories of where each and every one came from.

He remembers that there is an Apocalypse going on, knows that they’re not nearly to the end of the line yet. He considers the fact that Lucifer is still out there, and he’s so much angrier now. He knows that he’s going to have to decide soon what to do about Dean and Castiel, and he knows that he and Gabriel are not nearly the picture of a happy, healthy relationship themselves.

But right here, in this moment, with the archangel whispering terms of endearment in languages long dead into his mouth, and his fingers gliding as they always do over the collar Sam wears, none of that seems nearly as important as it should. Gabriel cannot say it yet, but he is finally allowing himself to feel it. He loves Sam.

It is enough.

It is _everything_.


	6. Trust

“No,” Castiel says tightly, his hands clenched at his sides, his spine rigid as he looks back and forth between Sam and Gabriel. “ _No_.”

“Look, even if you don’t feel it’s an option, he at least deserves to know the truth!” Sam is trying not to yell, but it’s a close thing.

“That is _not_ your decision to make!”

Gabriel is wisely staying out of the whole thing, standing close but not close enough that he can be mistaken for being in any way involved. Sam knows he doesn’t agree with him pushing this, but Dean is his brother, and he would want to know. Angels enjoy their secrets too much, and this one is too big for him to ignore.

“Cas, I understand where you’re coming from, I do.” He doesn’t, not really, but he does understand that the angel is scared of Dean finding out. “But think about it. We’ve already stopped Lucifer in his tracks. If we can stop Michael too…”

“ _No_ , Sam. Please, forget about it. If he finds out, it will be when I deem the information necessary, and not before. Right now, it’s _not_ , and telling him will only lead -”

“So, hey guys, what are we talkin’ about?”

Sam cringes, turns to face his brother, who has stepped out from behind the building they’ve been talking in front of. They started out with low-pitched voices, but he knows they’ve steadily been getting louder the longer they argued, and there’s no telling how long Dean has been listening, or how he even managed to track them down in the first place, since they’d left him sleeping in the motel room an hour ago.

“Dean,” Castiel says, his voice coming out weak sounding. A few feet away, Sam sees Gabriel shaking his head in the corner of his eye, his expression as he looks at Castiel something like a cross between amused and sympathetic.

Dean raises an eyebrow at the angel, crossing his arms, clearly waiting for an answer.

Castiel tries to cover it up with a vague, “We weren’t speaking of anything important. Nothing you should worry about.”

“Bull,” Dean and Sam say together, and Sam, even focused as he is on Castiel’s face and the betrayed, furious expression that crosses it, still sees the surprised and grateful look Dean shoots him.

Unfortunately, the satisfaction he feels in earning a bit more of his brother’s trust is short-lived, because Gabriel barks, “Sam,” in the voice that Sam is powerless to ignore, and his eyes close as it shudders its way through him. When he opens them again to look at the archangel, Gabriel looks angry, and he jerks his head sharply. “We’re leaving.”

He’s already walked two steps forward when Dean grabs him by the wrist, spinning him back. “Hang on just a damn second, you don’t have to -”

“I do,” Sam says quietly, firmly. “It’s okay, Dean. Gabriel’s right anyway, I shouldn’t have gotten so involved. But…talk to Castiel. Don’t let him weasel out of it.” He glares in defiance at Castiel, who is standing rigid and steely-eyed.

“ _Sam_ ,” Gabriel growls again, and this time there’s more exasperation than anger, but Sam still can’t do anything except give his brother a tiny reassuring smile and turn to go to him.

Gabriel throws a look at Dean and Castiel. “We’re going back to the motel. Come find us later,” he says, and doesn’t wait for a reply before he whisks Sam away.

~*~

Sam can’t look Gabriel in the eyes when they appear in the motel room. Instead he silently makes his way over to the desk in the corner and flips open his laptop, intending to do something useful while he’s trapped here, something that doesn’t require him to look at the archangel.

“Sam, c’mon,” Gabriel says. “You gonna ignore me the rest of the day now?”

Sam doesn’t answer.

“You had no right, taking it so far.” Gabriel’s voice is quiet now, serious. “I’m not sorry I stopped you from taking it even farther and hurting my brother more than you already did.”

Jaw clenching, Sam turns in the chair to glare at Gabriel. “Dean is my brother, and he has a goddamn right to know that he’s bound to an angel.”

Gabriel shrugs. “Maybe. But it was Castiel’s place to tell him, not yours.” He takes a few purposeful steps toward the hunter, who spins back to the desk and focuses on anything that _isn’t_ Gabriel. “Castiel’s cowardice isn’t the only thing you’re angry about.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” It’s more of a Dean type of response, but if Sam needs to channel his brother to have an outlet for his frustration, he’s okay with it.

“So, let me guess. Helluva lot easier to give me absolute control in the bedroom than it is in the real world, huh?” Gabriel is right behind him now, his hand moving to the side of Sam’s neck, fingers drifting deliberately over the band of leather there.

Sam freezes. "That's not -" He starts angrily.

"It is. It really is," Gabriel says. "You claim that you trust me, but really, you only trust me when it suits you to do so."

"No!" Sam's out of the chair now, standing in front of Gabriel, his pleading expression cutting straight through the irritation he was wearing. He needs Gabriel to understand, this isn't about them, isn't even about the control Gabriel has over him, not really. "Dean is family," he says, desperately. "He's the only family I have left, and I don't... Gabriel, I gave myself to you, but if there's anything it's going to be hard for me to give up control over, it's my relationship with Dean. I would do anything, _give_ anything to protect that, and him."

Gabriel's eyes soften a little. “I get that Sam, I do. And I would never try to take that away from you. But just like you’re protective of your brother? I’m finding myself pretty protective of mine, too. And you threatening to tell Dean something like that was a surefire way to get my back up. Not cool, Sam, not when Castiel feels like he has so much to lose.”

Sam’s brow furrows. “He’s not going to lose Dean because of this. I think after all this time, Dean would understand. Cas is his friend, and he doesn’t let go of friends easily.”

“That’s not all there is to it, and no, I’m not telling you what I mean because it’s _not my place_.”

Frustrated, Sam paces away. He knows the point Gabriel is trying to drive home, and worse, knows that he’s right. But he’s not used to this, not used to someone having so much power over him, and until now, Gabriel has never used it in this way. And okay, yeah, maybe it scares him a little, because Gabriel is right, it’s a lot easier to give up control when it’s just the two of them than when other people are involved.

But he gave himself to the archangel even before his feelings changed, and now he _trusts_ him, and more than that, he _loves_ him. So he has to trust in this aspect of the bond. He lets out a slow breath, forcing himself to relax. Gabriel comes up from behind him, places a hand on his waist, turns him so that he’s facing him. The hand remains where it is, and Sam feels warmth seeping into him that helps calm his annoyance even more.

“Gabriel.” Sam closes his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You’re right, and I’m sorry.”

Gabriel’s eyes are understanding. “No apology necessary. Long as we’re good.” He curls his hand further around Sam, begins backing up, leading them toward the bed. “Are we good, Sam?”

Sam’s mouth quirks upward, and he releases his concerns for his brother and Castiel, knowing they’ll work things out for themselves, as Gabriel’s eyes turn heated. “We’re good,” he murmurs, and follows Gabriel as he tumbles back onto the mattress.

~*~

An hour later, from the room next door where Dean and Castiel are staying, Sam hears the sound of something shattering against the wall. Gabriel’s fingers still where they’ve been tracing patterns along his chest. Moments later, they hear Dean’s unmistakable yell.

_Dammit, Cas, were you **ever** gonna tell me?_

A pause.

_Yeah, well, that’s not really good enough now, is it? Don’t **touch** me! I’m going out. Don’t you fucking follow me._

And then there is the sound of the door slamming, followed only a minute later by the squeal of tires as Dean flies out of the parking lot as though the hounds of Hell are after him.

Sam’s eyes find Gabriel’s, and they share their worry in silence.

~*~

Sam is propped up in bed reading when Dean finally finds him, not long after Gabriel has left to try and find Castiel. Considering the state his brother had left in, Sam is genuinely surprised that Dean’s clearly _not_ drunk. At his raised eyebrow, Dean looks away and shrugs. “Went driving to clear my head,” he says. “Didn’t think getting wasted would help the situation any.”

“You’re not usually that logical about anything,” Sam says with a grin, sitting up fully and tossing his book onto the nightstand. “So you gonna sit down or are you gonna make me strain my neck watching you pace?”

Dean scowls, probably because he was about to do exactly that, but he sits on the edge of the bed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, looking like he’s carrying the weight of the world on him. Unfortunately, Sam knows the analysis isn’t entirely inaccurate. He’s quiet for a long moment, Sam waiting patiently, knowing that pushing will just make matters worse. Finally, Dean says in a low voice, “I don’t know what to do, Sammy.”

Sam can only nod. “What did Cas tell you?” he asks, because he can’t really continue this conversation without knowing what it’s safe to say.

Dean sighs. “He told me about the…grace bond, or whatever, from when he dragged me out of the Pit. And he told me that that’s why we’ve always had… _whatever_ it is we’ve had,” he says, waving a hand. Sam takes this to mean the connection he and Castiel have had almost since the day they met. “He told me that it wasn’t enough to stop Michael, but that there’s a way that _would_ be.” He gives a meaningful look to Sam, lets his eyes drop to the collar at Sam’s throat, and swallows uncomfortably. “And he said he didn’t want me to consider that as an option, because of how binding it was. Acted like it would be worse than an archangel using me as a meatsuit. But…he did also say that if I was willing…he wouldn’t say no.”

Sam nods again, sympathetic, because if Castiel explained a blood-bond to Dean and Dean _is_ actually considering it, he’s probably pretty terrified. Sam knows how independent-minded his brother is, knows how much he values his freedom. It’s why he would never say yes to Michael, no matter what the angels think. The thought of losing that has to be damn scary to him, especially after being at Hell’s mercy for so long. Then his brow furrows. “He explained all of that in the time from when you started yelling to when you left?”

His brother’s eyes widen and he blinks. “Uh…you mean before, when I shattered the vase against the wall?” He flushes. “That…wasn’t about the bond, or whatever. We talked about all that stuff first. When I left, it was about…something else.”

“Okay…” Sam says, dragging the word out in his confusion. But Dean clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, so he doesn’t push the issue.

Dean fidgets a little, glancing over at Sam. “Know I’m gonna regret asking this, but, uh…what was it like? When you and Gabriel…”

“Uh…” Sam blinks, thinking of all the awkward places this conversation can go. But Dean deserves his honesty. “Well, um… I think it’s a lot different for Gabriel and me than it would be for you and Cas. I mean, for one thing, at least you two are friends. I hated Gabriel, even after I understood him a little better.”

Dean’s brow furrows. “If you hated him so much, then why -”

Sam cuts him off. “You gotta understand, Dean, I wasn’t…in a good place. The demon blood… I was so angry. The rage, the _intensity_ of it… It was starting to consume me. Much longer, I don’t know what I would have done. Gabriel was my _only_ option, no matter how much I didn’t like him. Anything was better than giving in to that darkness.” He lets out a slow breath. “It’s different now, but when I first went to him…”

“Why is it different now?” Dean asks, his gaze intense on Sam’s. “Just because of the blood?”

“No,” Sam replies vehemently. Dean looks startled at his tone, and he flushes a little. “Gabriel…he thinks that’s why, and I’m having a hard time convincing him it’s not.” He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “Okay, look, d’you want the full run-down of me and Gabriel? I don’t mind telling you, if it’ll help you make your decision.”

Dean looks like he wants anything _but_ a detailed recount of what Sam’s been up to with the archangel, but he nods, clenching his jaw. “Tell me.”

So Sam, after taking another breath to steady himself, does. He repeats for Dean the story of that first night, the intensity of the angel blood burning through the demon blood, and the way at the end, he’d felt more at peace than he ever had before. He tells him about their first night together, carefully editing out some of the more personal, specific details, but holding nothing else back. He tells him about the collar, and how he found out what it truly meant later on. Haltingly, for the first time, he finally tells Dean about what he went through when Lucifer captured him, which they’ve all been avoiding since Gabriel brought him back. He tells him of Gabriel’s doubts, and he tells him of his love for the archangel, of his complete faith in that love.

Dean stays silent throughout, though his eyes go dark at the mention of Lucifer, and his hands clench into fists at his sides. When Sam finally finishing, he works his jaw for a few moments before finally asking, hoarsely, “You’re okay? _Really?_ I know you told us everything was fine when you came back, but Jesus, Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes are soft as he reaches over and clasps Dean’s shoulder tightly, not taking his gaze off of his big brother. “I promise, I’m okay. Gabriel made it in time, and he took care of me.”

Dean nods, but his eyes are still deeply troubled and unfocused. “Sam…how do you know? That you really…”

“That I love him?” Dean nods once, not looking at him at all anymore, and Sam sits back a little, considering. "Once the bond was in place, I was...more aware of him, I guess. And the more time goes by, the deeper that connection gets. And...he _cares_ , Dean. He cared before any of this ever happened. He...actually, he loves _me_. And, it's just hard to resist a certain level of devotion, y'know? I mean, I know, without doubt, that he cares about me so much. He can't hide that. Or the fact that he would give literally _anything_ to protect me. How can I _not_ at least care for him, knowing that? And somewhere along the way...that just evolved. But I know it's real, Dean. The bond doesn't force me to feel anything. All it does is clue me in to what *he's* feeling. And it...intensifies...pretty much _everything_."

Dean raises an eyebrow and smirks, and Sam rolls his eyes and punches his brother in the arm. "What?" Dean asks, the picture of innocence.

"Uh huh."

The grin Dean's wearing fades and he scrubs a hand over his face with a tired sigh. "Cas mentioned...there's a...compulsion thing? Guessing you know a little somethin' about that, too, given what happened earlier."

Sam manages to hold back the flush, but it's a near thing. "There is...it's the blood bond, it makes it...sort of impossible to ignore the control he has. Um. But, it hasn't really been an issue, and it's not like Cas would...take advantage of it, right?"

"No. Just..."

"I know," Sam says. "I wish I could help, but it was an easy decision for me, with...everything. I wasn’t really…in control _anyway_ , most of the time. I didn’t have as much to lose."

Dean nods, and is perfectly silent for long moments before he suddenly begins to laugh. It sounds a tiny bit crazy, and Sam gazes at him worriedly, which just makes him laugh harder. When he finally calms down a little, he says, "Our lives are weird, man. I mean, who'd have thought even like three years ago all this crazy shit would happen to us? I went to Hell, and got yanked out by an angel. We started to goddamn Apocalypse, we have Michael and Lucifer after our meatsuits. And both of us are sitting here fucking _in love_ with two angels." He shakes his head, ignoring Sam's gaping look, and pats his brother's leg as he stands. "Thanks, Sammy," he says, his smile genuine, if a little tight-lipped.

"Uh huh..." Sam murmurs, too much in shock for real coherency. As Dean nears the door, he manages to ask, "So, what are you going to do?"

Dean shrugs. "Turns out, it ain't really much of a choice. Keep having Heaven hunting me for my body, or give myself to the one person in all of creation who never let me down."

And that stings a little, but Sam nods, knowing that it's true, and that somehow despite the odds he’s been forgiven for it, and watches his brother walk out with a whispered, "Good luck, Dean."

~*~

Gabriel returns not long after that, saying only that Castiel has gone to try and talk to Dean. He doesn’t elaborate on what set the hunter off any more than Dean did, though he clearly must know, but Sam isn’t bothered by it. He has a pretty good idea now of what Castiel must have told his brother. Instead, he shifts over, making room on the bed for the archangel. Gabriel accepts the invitation with casual grace, sliding in beside Sam and curling around him, angling himself to press a suckling kiss to Sam’s neck. “You okay?” he asks quietly.

“Besides the reminder that I’m the world’s worst brother?” Sam tilts his head and lets out a breath as Gabriel attacks his neck with force.

“You’re not,” Gabriel says, pressing the words into Sam’s skin. “Trust me.” He moves to straddle Sam’s hips, not shifting his focus at all from kissing and biting and sucking every inch of Sam’s neck around the collar.

Sam moans. “I am. I… _Jesus_ …I don’t know how he can even stand to be around me anymore.”

“Sam.” Gabriel makes the word, his name, into a prayer as his hand slides under Sam’s shirt to press against his heart. “You made a mistake. It happens. Dean forgave you, but you’ve gotta forgive yourself if you’re ever going to move past it. And trust me. I can think of brothers a lot worse than you. In the end, you went back to your family, even despite your mistakes.” He leaves unsaid that he didn’t, that he _can’t_ , but Sam knows, just as he knows how much it still pains the archangel.

His heart constricts at the knowledge, and he reaches up, grasps Gabriel by the hips, and flips them so that he’s suddenly the one straddling the archangel. And it’s different, Gabriel staring up at him with wide, dark eyes, but he finds that he likes it. That some part of him _needs_ it. And maybe Gabriel does too, because he lifts up, surges against Sam, and devours his mouth as they fall back to the bed, but he doesn’t make a move to reverse their positions again.

He’s giving Sam control this time.

Sam feels drunk on the knowledge that he’s being given permission to do anything he wants here, and he doesn’t know where to start, content to just roll his hips, grinding down into Gabriel as his tongue slides against the archangel’s, and Gabriel swallows down his moan.

He’s about to work to remove his shirt with as little pulling apart as possible, but Gabriel snaps his fingers, and suddenly they’re both naked. Sam scowls, but it’s halfhearted at best, and Gabriel responds with an innocent shrug. “I’m impatient,” he murmurs, and lifts up into Sam, clearly outlining the hard line of his cock, ready and waiting for the hunter.

“We should really work on that,” Sam says, leaning down to kiss Gabriel one more time before he begins working his way down the archangel’s chest.

“Later,” Gabriel gasps as Sam takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and nipping gently as it hardens.

“Mmhmm.” Sam releases that nipple and moves over to the other, licking and blowing on it, laughing as Gabriel whines beneath him.

“You’re a worse tease than I am,” the archangel growls.

Sam doesn’t disagree, focused as he is on tasting every inch of Gabriel he can reach. One hand traces the curve of Gabriel’s body, and he shivers in response. Sam wonders if he could possibly be ticklish, but decides to leave that possible discovery for another time.

Probably later tonight.

“Sam, damn you, c’mon already,” Gabriel moans piteously, shifting his hips, trying to tempt Sam closer. Sam ignores him entirely, gracing his side with a chastising bite for his impatience, and Gabriel whimpers in response. “I hate you.”

“You really, really don’t.” Sam smiles, and while Gabriel’s eyes are closed in frustration, he silently moves down and swallows Gabriel down in one swift move.

Gabriel arches off the bed with a cry, and Sam chokes a little, but manages to take it without too much trouble, tonguing over the slit and making Gabriel quake. “Where in the name of everything that’s holy did you _learn_ this?” the archangel asks breathlessly.

 _Do you really want me to answer?_ Sam asks silently, hollowing his cheeks and sucking, his tongue swirling over Gabriel’s cock.

Gabriel doesn’t reply, too preoccupied with thrashing underneath the hunter, letting out gasping little sounds that have Sam hard and leaking himself. “Sam. Sam, stop. Want you to… Oh, hell, fuck me, please!”

Sam freezes, pulling off and staring down at the archangel. There’s being allowed a tiny bit of control, and then there’s _this_ , and this is something he never thought he’d be granted. “Are you sure?” he asks, praying that the answer is yes, because he can’t think of anything he wants more in this exact moment.

“Get…inside me… _now_ ,” Gabriel orders, and God, there’s _no way_ Sam can disobey that voice, even if for some insane reason he wanted to. It burns through him, setting fire to his soul, and he’s leaning down to press his mouth to Gabriel’s before he’s aware of moving.

The archangel moves, bending his knees, lifting his hips in open invitation. Sam goes to reach over to the bedside table for the lube, and Gabriel’s hand on his wrists stops him. “Don’t need it. You _can’t hurt me_ , Sam.”

Sam closes his eyes, trying to slow his rapid heartbeat, but then Gabriel’s hand is on his erection, and he’s guiding Sam down and to his opening before the hunter can so much as blink. When he takes a breath and begins pressing in slowly, Gabriel scoffs and in one lightening-quick move thrusts forward, impaling himself on Sam’s cock. “Now _move_ already,” the archangel commands.

Sam does as he’s told, pulling back and driving forward again, watching Gabriel come apart beneath him with every thrust. He shifts just slightly, coming at the him from a new angle, and that’s when Gabriel cries out and the ground shakes below them. Sam grins and continues hitting that spot just right, until the lights are flickering, and Gabriel clearly can’t take much more.

 _I love you_ , Sam whispers from his soul, pressing a hand to Gabriel’s heart, and the archangel gives one last shuddering sob and comes with a brilliant flash of the purest white light and a rumble deep within the earth. Sam gives one final thrust and follows him over the edge.

~*~

When Sam opens his eyes again a few hours later, it is pitch-dark in the room, but he’s still aware of Gabriel sitting up and gazing down at him. His mood seems playful, and Sam raises an eyebrow.

“You missed the lightshow from the room next door,” Gabriel says with a smirk.

Sam snorts. “I can only imagine,” he says. “How long do you think that’s been coming for?”

“Well, no one ever said our brothers were quick on the uptake.” Gabriel leans down, brushes his lips across Sam’s. “It’s a pretty incredible thing you two’ve done. You actually _stopped_ the Apocalypse in its tracks. Lucifer’s vessel will burn out within a few short weeks and he’ll have no choice but to either take his fight to Heaven, where he’ll be outnumbered and overwhelmed, or go back to his prison with his tail tucked. And Michael’s only chance is gone now, too.”

“It seems sort of…anticlimactic.” Sam’s eyes are adjusting to the darkness, and he can see Gabriel tilt his head in question. “I just mean…it seems too easy, somehow.”

“Well, there’s still stuff to deal with,” Gabriel assures him. “The angels are gonna be pissed, probably as angry as Lucifer, and all of them are going to be after you and Dean for revenge, though I’m sure they’ll call it something more righteous-sounding than that. And demons are still crawling all over the earth, and the horsemen are still out there, though they won’t stay long once word reaches them. But the point is, it’s not like we’re totally out of the woods yet. This was just the biggest step.”

Sam nods, and his mind drifts back to his brother. “You think Dean and Cas are okay?”

Gabriel pauses for a moment with his eyes closed, his grace reaching out to feel the emotions of the occupants of the next room. Sam would find it creepy, but he’s genuinely concerned, so he can let it go this time. When Gabriel smiles, something loosens in his chest and he sighs.

“So, the verdict?” he asks.

“Castiel’s grace is tethered to Dean now. _All_ of his grace, even the parts that had faded.” Gabriel’s eyes are wide and happy. “If I didn’t know better, I’d call it a damn miracle.”

Sam sits up, shocked. “He’s not falling anymore?”

“Not even a little bit,” Gabriel confirms. “And for the record, Dean is fine too. Happier than I think he’s been in a long time.”

It seems too good to be true, all four of them together and as safe as they’ve been in a long time, and _happy_. Sam feels like he should be waiting for the other shoe to drop.

When it finally does, though, he’s completely unprepared for it.


	7. Hurt

To say he doesn’t like this plan would be a severe understatement. Sam is against this plan _entirely_ , but for all his reasoning and pleas against it, he’s outnumbered three to one. “This is the stupidest thing ever, you know that, right?” he says, fists clenched as he stares hard at his brother.

“Sam, two horsemen are killing a lot of people right now. What else can we do?” Dean shrugs helplessly. “Bobby can’t reach anyone else, and considering we have a half-formed apocalypse on our hands, I can’t say I’m really surprised. Not all the bad guys have gotten the memo that it’s over yet.”

“And you think splitting up, when we’ve managed to severely piss off both Heaven _and_ Hell by thwarting their plans, you think that’s a great idea?”

“Okay, first of all, no, I don’t, but I’m not seein’ a third option. Secondly, _thwarting?_ Who talks like that, dude, seriously? And thirdly, we both still have backup, so it’s not like we’ll be going in alone. It could be worse.” Dean tries for a reassuring expression, but it doesn’t really help much.

Sam looks at Castiel, notes that the angel doesn’t look thrilled either, but he does look determined. One hand rests at Dean’s waist, almost as though placed their unconsciously, and okay, yes, Sam knows that Castiel will fight with every breath to make sure nothing happens to Dean, but… “I still _really_ don’t like this,” he sighs.

Dean steps towards him, places a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be fine. Just a couple horsemen, and hey, we’ve already taken one out, right?”

“Yeah, _together,_ ” he says pointedly, but it’s said with a sigh, and he already knows he’s given in. “You know this is a trap.”

“Well, duh,” Dean says, giving one harsh bark of laughter. “Famine popping up on the east coast at the same time as Pestilence starts ravaging the west? No such thing as a coincidence that big.” He grins, but Sam’s not blind to the unease behind it. “Won’t be the first trap we’ve walked into knowingly, and it won’t be the last either, you hear me?”

“Fine, just, keep in contact, all right?” Sam runs a hand through his hair, and Dean squeezes his shoulder once and lets go with a tight nod.

“Course we will.” His sharp gaze goes to Gabriel, standing quietly at Sam’s side. “You take care of my brother, got it?”

Gabriel’s lip twitches, and Sam knows he wants to make some sort of scathing or sarcastic reply, but he just gives a single nod instead. “You two take care of each other,” he says, looking between Dean and Castiel, and Sam can feel his worry for both of them. “Soon as we finish up in Oregon, we’ll meet up with you guys in Massachusetts. Don’t die before we get there.”

It’s the right thing to say, because Dean smirks, already looking more at ease, and even Castiel ducks his head as his lips quirk into a small smile. Sam squeezes Gabriel’s hand thankfully, and then Castiel gives them a final parting look, touches Dean’s shoulder, and they’re gone.

Gabriel turns to Sam, something dark in his eyes, some deep uneasiness that, no matter how well he hid it from Dean and Castiel, he could never hope to hide from Sam. “You know we really don’t have a choice,” he says.

Sam nods. “I know.” He gives a deep sigh. “Let’s go.” He grasps Gabriel’s hand again, tightly, and the archangel nods, lifting his other hand to eye level.

There is a snap.

And then there is nothing.

~*~

“Sam? Sam!” Sam wakes to a frantic voice and a hand pressing down on his chest, radiating warmth. His head is pounding, his breathing shaky, but when he opens his eyes and sees Gabriel’s warm hazel ones blinking down at him, he feels instantly calmer.

“What happened?” he asks, sitting up slowly.

Gabriel’s expression hardens even as the worry he’s feeling increases. “I don’t know. We appeared here, and you just dropped. You’ve been out for ten minutes.” _Here_ seems to be a motel room, not unlike the one they just left behind, but Sam barely takes note of the surroundings as he blinks at the archangel.

“I…fainted?” Sam’s traveled via angel before, and it’s never caused him to feel even the slightest bit queasy, let alone bad enough to pass out. Which means something else caused it, and in his experience, it can’t be anything good.

“Yeah, swooned just like a fair maiden,” Gabriel says, the words typical of him, but there’s no laughter in his tone. “And hey, for the record, it’s a little early for me to be playing to dashing hero to the rescue when we haven’t even started killing things yet.”

“A horseman couldn't cause that reaction, could it?" Sam asks, ignoring Gabriel’s snarky comments for the moment. "I mean, we came up against War and there was never any...backlash of power or anything." And he's not feeling anything now, no ill effects at all. None of this makes sense.

"I don't know," Gabriel replies, sharp eyes focusing beyond the room around them. "I can't sense anything close by. Not even Pestilence, come to that." His gaze narrows. "But you can bet I'm going to find out what's here. I don't like this." He stands, and Sam can already see the determination in his eyes. Something inside him goes cold.

"Gabriel, maybe we should wait here, just for a little while, see if something pings across your radar. This doesn't feel right."

"No, it doesn't," Gabriel acknowledges. "Which is why you're staying here while I take a look around and see what's what."

Sam's on his feet in an instant, grasping Gabriel's arm, fire in his eyes. "You're not actually seriously considering going out there without backup? I'm going with you!"

“Whatever is waiting out there for us knocked you on your ass with no effort. We don't know what caused it. And I'm not taking the chance on something worse happening in the middle of a fight.” Gabriel is all archangel now, his voice lowering, his eyes flashing. “You're waiting right here in this room Sam Winchester, and that is _not_ up for negotiation. _Stay. Here._ ”

The command coils through him, twists itself into his body, his mind, his soul, and he gasps at the power of it. “ _No,_ ” he grits out through clenched teeth, taking a single step toward the door. Fire flares in his gut, forces him to his knees, and Gabriel looks down at him with a tortured expression.

“Sam…please don’t fight this. I need to know you’re here, safe.” He kneels down, cups Sam’s face with his hand. “I promise I won’t do anything stupid like get into a fight without backup. This is just recon, okay? Just so we know what affected you so strongly. I’ll be back before you know it and we can take out whatever big bad evil thing is in the area together.”

Sam’s breathing hard, the pain fading, but still there, a warning. He glares at Gabriel. “You shouldn’t be doing this without me,” he says tightly. “Gabriel…”

“Stay,” Gabriel repeats, a whisper this time. He presses a hard kiss to Sam’s lips, and it’s desperate and pleading and remorseful all at once, and Sam doesn’t even have time to respond before it’s over and Gabriel is gone with a rush of wingbeats.

Sam’s hand clenches into a fist as he forces himself to his feet and stares at the door. His body tenses with remembered pain as he contemplates the steps it would take to reach it, and he shudders, takes one anyway. Agony flares, worse now, an angry fist clenched around his soul, squeezing, cutting his breath off and making him wobble unsteadily. He refuses to fall, refuses to give up, and with forceful willpower, he shoves himself another step forward.

His head begins to pound, pain radiating out, clutching sharp fingers into his skull and driving away all thoughts of disobeying Gabriel’s order. He can’t move, he can’t breathe, he can’t _think_ , and he’s back on his knees, one hand pressed to his head, the other arm wrapped around his stomach as he shakes and sobs and curses Gabriel for leaving him here.

The compulsion to obey drives at him, _stabs_ at him, and he can finally do nothing but give in to it entirely. He curls onto his side on the floor, and his eyes slide shut. A tear rolls down his cheek as darkness descends over him.

~*~

This time when Sam wakes, it’s to a panic that it takes him long moments to realize is not his own. Then all he can think is that Gabriel is in trouble, and that he needs to get to him _now_. _Gabriel!_ he thinks desperately, but there’s no reply, and that can’t mean anything good.

Compulsion or no compulsion, order or no order, Sam needs to get to the archangel, and it’s with renewed resolve that he gets painfully to his feet and _lunges_ for the door, grasping the handle tightly with fingers that tremble. His anger with Gabriel is forgotten, all he wants is to make sure he’s all right, and it’s with that need burning in his heart that he swings the door open.

There’s only a brief second to feel the elation coursing through him at the victory before he registers exactly what it is he’s seeing on the other side, and by then Lucifer has already smiled his eerily calm smile and is striding through into the room.

The panic he feels now is all his own, his tie to Gabriel smothered either by his own too-intense feelings or some other force Lucifer has set in place, it’s impossible at this point to know for sure.

“Sam,” the devil says, no inflection in his tone at all. “Leaving so soon? We put so much effort into making sure you arrived and were left unattended, it would be a waste for you to go before we got started with the festivities.”

Sam’s eyes narrow. “Festivities?”

“Why, yes, of course. Hadn’t you heard? The apocalypse is averted, the world is saved!” Lucifer’s eyes blaze into him, cutting clean through the mocking tone as his voice deepens. “My brother has no vessel to take, and this one is fading away, burning out, even as we speak. You’ve _won_ , Sam. You saved the world, just as you wanted.” His expression becomes a malevolent smirk, and this is the first time Sam truly sees him willingly show anything other than the eerie serenity he’s always associated with the devil. “It’s really too bad I can’t allow you to enjoy your triumph. You, or your brother, or _my_ wayward brothers who so foolishly guard you both.”

Sam feels an icy trickle of fear worm its way down his spine as he thinks of Dean and Castiel. He’d expected this whole thing to be a trap, but to hear it confirmed… And even with his grace returned to him, Castiel is not as powerful as Gabriel, and Gabriel stumbled and was caught in this trap too easily himself.

Lucifer leans close to him, not touching, not yet, but close enough to whisper in his ear, “If it’s the very last thing I do on this earth, I’m going to make sure you and your family burn, Sam Winchester.”

There’s nothing blocking his exit, nothing standing in his way, though he knows that logically Lucifer must have demons waiting outside, surrounding him, trapping him as easily as he’d once trapped Gabriel in a ring of holy fire. But still, he wants to run, wants to at least make the effort. And he can’t. He’s rooted in place by command, by the bond and the control Gabriel has over him, and even with the adrenaline coursing through him, he knows he won’t get far enough fast enough once the pain of disobedience hits.

Lucifer has him, and there’s no getting out of it. He seems to realize it too, despite Sam’s stony silence, because his lips curve further upwards, and he’s stepping right into the hunter’s space now, his hand raising, pressing to the collar…

Sam cries out, doesn’t even try to hold back as he’s forced to the ground again. The pain rips through him, paralyzes him, and God, he would _take_ the agony of going against Gabriel’s orders over this, because this isn’t just pain, this is torture, this is soul-deep anguish, and there _is_ no fighting it.

Lucifer is laughing low, mocking laughter, his fingers caressing the leather, stroking the skin above and below it, slicing Sam apart inch by inch.

The sound coming from Sam’s throat is one long, endless scream. He can’t feel anything beyond this shattering torment, and so he doesn’t feel the dagger Lucifer slips between his ribs, not at first. Not until it’s piercing his lungs, his heart, killing him in one swift stroke that leaves him shocked and gasping. His eyes are wide, and Lucifer still has his hand pressed to Sam’s neck, is still laughing that gentle, terrible laugh as Sam tilts sideways and crashes to the floor, and then everything begins to go dark and cold, but at least he can no longer feel the pain through the numbness.

~*~

Across town, shackled to the wall of an abandoned factory with bindings designed to keep him firmly in place, Gabriel feels the moment the light leaves Sam’s eyes and his soul is tugged from his body. He feels the coldness of death looming over the hunter, and he feels his heart slow, slow, and then eventually stop.

He bellows his rage, his helplessness, his despair. The shackles cut into him as he thrashes against them, and from the other side of the door, he can hear the demons that guard him laughing.

The chains bind the vessel, and him inside it.

They don’t bind the angel he truly is.

Gabriel takes a breath, closes his eyes. And for the first time in hundreds of years, he escapes the restricting confines of the human-shaped body he inhabits.

As nothing more than a brilliant beam of light, praying to a father he has long since lost faith in, he flies, hoping against hope he is not too late.


	8. Surrender

Dying, here and now, is nothing like death as Sam remembers it being in his past, and he has a somewhat terrifying history of the experience in his background. But this is not death in a way that makes sense, this is death where there is nothing but icy shadows that reach for him, ready to drag him down to their master, though Lucifer has not yet returned to where they mean to take Sam. He has no strength, no sight or sound or feeling at all, and he can’t fight them as their whispers fill his mind with darkness and terror.

He can vaguely feel his connection to Gabriel, but it’s a distant thing, brought only to his attention because the shadows that surround him seem to crave its destruction. They gnaw on it, claw at it, try to sever it in so many ways, but they can’t. Even like this, even when he’s dying and powerless, they can’t break that bond, and in all of this, that knowledge is the one thing that gives Sam hope as he drifts further and further from himself into an endless black void.

He’ll never know how much time passes. Forever after, he’ll wonder how long he was like this, clinging by fingernails to the brink between life and death, and forever after, he will avoid asking the one person who could tell him.

What he does know is that, somewhere between the harsh reality of life and the cold reality of death, somewhere between the ecstasy of being _here_ and the agony of being _there_ , his vision that is not true vision is filled with light, and his being is flooded with warmth. The shadows around his dissipate with discordant, screaming rage, and something like rapture surrounds him, fills him to overflowing, presses in everywhere and brings him back from the darkness.

When he comes to, all he can feel is _Gabriel_. He’s aware of the archangel in a way he never has been before. This is more than _bond_ , more than _connection_ , this is being joined with Gabriel so deeply, so _completely_ that nothing else could exist in the universe, and it would still be enough. He doesn’t know what’s going on, doesn’t know what Gabriel has done, but he’s filled with elation at the realization that Gabriel is _here_ and _safe_ , and he’s filled with joy at the familiarity of Gabriel’s presence.

 _Sam_ , the archangel whispers, and it’s so close, so beautiful that Sam could weep. Peripherally, he knows Lucifer is in the room still, knows that whatever has happened is going to cause the devil no endless amount of wrath, but he can’t bring himself to care as he wraps himself in Gabriel’s warmth. _Sam, I’m sorry_.

Words are beyond him still in this moment, but he knows what Gabriel is apologizing for, knows that the archangel is blaming himself for all of this happening, and he sends what reassurance he can back. He knows, logically, that this cloudy bliss he’s riding can’t last, knows that whatever Gabriel has done is blocking a lot of what he should be feeling, but he also knows that he’ll forgive Gabriel anything, and he wants to make sure Gabriel knows that as well.

And then his eyes open, and he’s on his feet between one heartbeat and the next, without being aware of moving, of even thinking about moving.

Lucifer is standing in front of him, a terrifying expression on his face. “ _Gabriel_ ,” he hisses.

“You never were careful enough to consider all possible outcomes before doing something stupid,” Sam says, only it’s not him speaking, it’s something speaking _through_ him, and things begin clicking into place as he continues to stare down the devil. “I told you there would be consequences if you didn’t leave Sam alone.”

With his eyes open, Sam’s more aware of the world around him, can think more clearly, and it’s so obvious to him now what Gabriel has done that he wonders how it didn’t occur to him from the first moment. To save him, Gabriel _took_ him, made him a vessel in time to heal him, and Sam hadn’t even known that was possible, certainly had never given his consent for it. But Gabriel owns him, body and soul, so of course it makes sense. Sam doesn’t know how to feel about it, being shoved to the back of his own mind while an archangel uses his body to challenge Lucifer. He’s been so conditioned by circumstances to avoid being a vessel at all costs, and even if it’s not Lucifer who has taken control, it still doesn’t resonate well in Sam’s mind.

If looks could destroy, Gabriel would certainly be a pile of ash on the floor right now, with Lucifer drawn up to his full height, threads of darkness and rage curling around him, and it’s only at that moment that Sam realizes he can see so far beyond his normal human perception, can see the warped and twisted grace Lucifer hides in the broken, decomposing vessel he inhabits. When the devil speaks, the words echo with music, with a song Sam could never hope to understand, and the hunter realizes this is his true voice, this is the voice of the Host, and it’s as terrible as it is beautiful, much like Lucifer himself. Warped and twisted, yes, but still pure in a way only something angelic could ever be. “And I told you that you had no hope of beating me,” Lucifer responds darkly.

Gabriel only smiles, lifts Sam’s hand. From the ether that surrounds them, a gleaming sword of shifting, otherworldly metal materializes, and he closes long fingers around the hilt, gives an experimental swing. Sam is relatively inexperienced with sword fighting, but the blade feels natural in his hands as Gabriel wields it, and he doesn’t know if it’s simply the archangel’s presence inside of him, or something deeper, something involving their bond. Either way, holding the blade, even if it’s not really _him_ holding it, feels right. Lucifer’s eyes widen, his face twisted into a snarl.

With a loathsome look on his face, he vanishes.

The moment he does so, the smile slides off Sam’s face, and Gabriel lowers the point of his sword to the floor. Sam can feel the weariness that steals over him, the hatred of knowing what it is he’s going to have to do. “I don’t want to fight him,” he murmurs, and hearing his particular tone and nuances coming from Sam’s deeper voice is…different. But not unwelcome. Not disturbing. Not like it should be.

 _Gabriel…_ Sam whispers within the confines of his own mind.

Gabriel’s eyes slide shut for a moment, and Sam feels their connection strengthen and begin to glow as the archangel wraps his essence around it, clings tightly. “I’m sorry about this, Sam,” he says, still speaking aloud, voice still soft. “I never meant…”

Sam realizes that he’s clinging so desperately to their bond because he craves the comfort of it. It’s a trick he’s used himself, more than once, but the feeling is remarkably different with Gabriel _right here_ , with Sam able to feel every little thing that the archangel feels. _I know you are,_ he says, because it would be impossible not to sense it, not to feel the truth echoing in the words. _And I don’t blame you, not really. Or, I at least understand the reasoning behind it. But Gabriel, I know my own limits, and you should have…you just…_ He goes silent, because yeah, okay, he can admit that it hurt, and not just physically. But they’ve had this conversation, and he knows the control Gabriel has over him is complete, knows he can’t just wish himself out of it. He’s accepted that, he _has_ damn it…but if today has proven nothing else, he needs it to show Gabriel that he needs to be able to have that freedom in situations like this.

“I just…Sam, I have to be able to look out for you. Everything inside me _needs_ that, it’s what the bond is _for._ ” Gabriel’s eyes open and sharpen on a point across the room, and his tone changes to become just the slightest bit defensive. “Every instinct I possess screams at me to keep you safe, keep you away from all of this. And I _can’t,_ it’s impossible because you Winchesters have made it that way, but I just…I can’t…” His fists are clenched, and he’s almost angry, wavering on the brink of wanting to yell himself hoarse.

Sam understands, he does, and he keeps his tone placating and honest. _I get it, Gabriel. I know, this isn’t easy for either of us. But that need to protect…bond or no bond, that need goes both ways. And I have a hunter’s instincts to protect myself as well. I know this bond isn’t equal, it can’t be by its very nature, and I’ve come to terms with that. But maybe we should be making more of an effort to find ways to keep **each other** safe, **together**. We would work better as a team than we do alone, and you know it._

Gabriel’s head bows and he nods his agreement. “You’re right. I’m just…not really sure I know how,” he admits.

 _We can work it out. Together._ Using that word warms something inside Sam, because as deep as their bond goes, as much as he’s given himself over to the archangel, this is the first time they’ve really considered as much of an equal partnership as could ever be possible between them, and he wants that, wants _Gabriel_ to want it. That Gabriel does makes love swell deep within him, and if he could, he’d be smiling, wrapping himself in the archangel’s arms, whispering those words of love that it’s taken so long for Gabriel to believe. But that will wait, because there are more important things to focus on now, and they’ve wasted too much time already. _We need to get to Dean and Castiel,_ he says, a note of urgency creeping in. _Lucifer will go after them next. Can you reach Cas?_

Gabriel’s expression tightens as he tries and fails to contact his brother. “No.” He swallows. “Guess we really are going to do this together.” Because there isn’t time to waste, not even to dispatch the demons guarding his vessel so he can give Sam his body back. If his vessel hasn’t yet been destroyed.

 _Hurry,_ is all that Sam says, and then makes a quiet sound of amazement when he feels the powerful wings erupt from his back, feels the force of the archangel inside and around him as Gabriel’s grace flares and he flies.

~*~

The motel room where they were eventually supposed to meet up with their brothers is in shambles. The TV has been smashed, most of the furniture overturned or broken. Dean’s duffle lies in the corner, weapons strewn out over the floor. There are smears of blood on the floor and the walls, and one wall is cracked right up to the ceiling from the force of something heavy being thrown into it.

Dean and Castiel are, of course, nowhere to be seen. Gabriel stretches his senses as far as he can, but doesn’t get a whiff of anything. As in Oregon, even the energy signature of the horseman that should be here is conspicuously absent. He’s angry, his fear for one brother and his wrath toward another growing exponentially, and Sam is whisked along on the currents of those emotions, until he can’t tell where his own feelings begin and end because they’re so closely related to Gabriel’s. _What do we do now?_ he finally asks.

Gabriel swings the sword he carries up to eye level, looks it up and down as he runs a hand along the rippling blade. Beneath his fingers, Enochian sigils appear, etched into metal and glowing white-hot. When he speaks, his tone is decisive and final, no room left for doubt. “We find the devil and send the son of a bitch back to where he belongs.”

~*~

They go to Bobby. With no warning and no word from them for the past several weeks aside from the ten-minute phone call to Dean about the horsemen, Sam knows he’s going to have a lot of explaining to do, but the simple fact is, there’s no time. They appear in the gruff hunter’s living room, where Bobby is seated in his wheelchair doggedly going through several old texts and making notes on a battered-looking pad. At the sound of wings, he turns with sharp words on his tongue, words that stutter and die when his eyes take in Sam standing in front of him.

Through angelic vision, Sam sees Bobby’s soul flare, fear worming its way in as he struggles to grab the weapon nearest to hand. In three long strides, Gabriel is next to him, reaching down and holding Bobby’s arm where it is. “I’m not Lucifer,” he says, eyes steady and dark. “And I need your help.”

“You got a lot of nerve, comin’ here and asking for help when you’re wearin’ my boy as your meatsuit, you sonofabitch,” Bobby growls, yanking his arm away. Hearing him refer to Sam as his son makes Sam want to cry or reach out and tug Bobby into a hug, and it takes all his willpower not to inadvertently start fighting Gabriel for control to do just that. There’s no damn _time_.

“Sam is safe, and consented to this.”

Sam huffs, but doesn’t disagree, because in a roundabout way, he did, from the second he gave himself to Gabriel. Not that he ever thought being a vessel was part of the deal.

“Yeah, and what sorta things you have to do to him to get that ‘consent’?” Bobby spits the word like it’s poison, and Sam can’t blame him, given what they know of Zachariah’s methods in the past, not to mention Lucifer and Michael themselves.

Gabriel pulls back, eyes flashing. “I didn’t hurt him or bribe him or trick him or do any of the things you're thinking, Robert Singer, nor would I ever. Sam gave himself to me willingly and with full awareness of what he was doing. _He_ came to _me_.”

This is Gabriel in full archangel mode, and Sam can see Bobby’s eyes change with the knowledge that maybe things aren’t quite all they appear to be. “Who are you?” he demands.

Sam feels his mouth pull up into a half-smile, half-smirk. “Gabriel,” the archangel replies, and Sam wants to cringe, because yeah, Bobby’s heard all about the archangel-turned-trickster, and none of it has been very good. There’s a reason Sam and Dean haven’t talked much to the hunter since Sam gave his soul away. There’s never really been an easy way to explain this.

Sure enough, Bobby’s eyes change again, narrowing and sparking in tightly controlled anger. This won’t end well. _Gabriel, I need to talk to him,_ Sam says, desperately. _He won’t help us if he doesn’t trust you, and he has no reason to._

 _Sam, I’m not sure I can give you much control,_ Gabriel tells him hesitantly as he continues to face off with the hunter in front of him. _Just keeping myself reigned in enough that I don’t hurt you is…more effort than I can tell you._

Sam knows enough of Lucifer and Raphael to know that an archangel can very easily burn its way through a vessel quickly, and usually crushes or burns out the soul inside. He can feel the effort Gabriel’s been exerting to hold back, now that he’s thinking about it, and he knows it’s not easy on him. _Please try,_ he asks, voice soft.

Gabriel sighs, Sam’s eyes sliding closed as he struggles to fold himself smaller, too small, and Sam can feel his suffering as he fights to give Sam enough room to take control. _I can’t hold back for long,_ he says, sounding pained. _Hurry up._

And suddenly, Sam pitches forward, the threads of control Gabriel had cut loose as he allows Sam to take over. He darts a hand out quickly enough to stop from face planting, ends up on one knee as he takes a few deep breaths. When he looks up, Bobby is staring at him, brow furrowed. “The hell you doin’?” he asks.

“Bobby,” Sam says, and he doesn’t know if it’s his tone, or his eyes, or some sixth sense the hunter has developed after so long, but Bobby’s eyes go wide and his mouth drops.

“ _Sam?_ ”

Sam climbs to his feet, limbs trembling because everything still feels disconnected somehow, too tight or too heavy or too _full_ , because even curled as tightly as he can go, Gabriel is inside him, and there _so much_ of him that Sam feels like he’s being pushed out, stretched to the limits of his body, tied to it by only the thinnest of threads. He winds up having to catch himself on the arm of Bobby’s wheelchair, unable to fully support himself, and Bobby’s hand grasps his arm tightly, steadying Sam even as he continues to gape at him. “Yeah,” Sam finally responds. “Yeah, it’s me. _Shit_ , this is hard.”

“Son, what the _hell_ you think you’re doin’?” Bobby growls, fingers digging in tightly enough to make Sam wince.

“Bobby, I know, I know we should have called you and explained all this, it’s just, there’s been so much going on and I want to tell you everything but I don’t have a lot of time, Gabriel can’t keep this up for long, and oh, God, I’m so sorry.” Once the words start, they tumble out of him, and he knows he’s not making sense, but the clock is ticking and he doesn’t even know where to start.

Bobby stares for a long moment. “Boy, what the hell are you talkin’ about?”

Sam takes another shaky breath. “I didn’t just consent to being Gabriel’s vessel. A couple months ago, I asked him to bind me to him, to stop me from being able to say yes to Lucifer. He…owns me, basically. There’s more to it, but Bobby, there’s not time for me to explain it all. Just, it was real, honest consent, you have to believe that. Gabriel’s helped me more than I can tell you, and I trust him. Completely. And –” He cuts off, grimacing as Gabriel’s grace flares before the archangel can hold back. “Please, we just need your help. _Please_ , Bobby. Dean and Cas are in trouble and there’s no one else.”

_Sam, I can’t…_

Sam reaches down, pulls Bobby into a hard hug. Before the hunter has time to react at all, he pulls back, relaxes…

Gabriel unfolds and expands and takes over between one breath and the next, and Sam releases his hold on his body wearily. _Thank you_ , he says, heartfelt.

Bobby’s eyes are sharp, and Gabriel stands straight and tall, hands clasped behind his back, head tilted as he waits for the hunter to say something.

“So this bond between you and Sam,” he says after an endless moment. “It’d have to be a blood bond.”

Gabriel arches an eyebrow. “You know about angelic bonds?” he asks, impressed in spite of himself, and Sam wants to smirk, because duh, of course Bobby is awesome like that.

“I know enough,” Bobby replies, voice gruff. He’s eyeing the collar at Sam’s neck.

“Then when I tell you that I’ve shared both blood and grace with Sam…”

Bobby stares hard again, then gives a single nod, relaxing so minutely that Sam doesn’t think he’d catch it if not for Gabriel’s enhanced angelic vision. “All right then, Gabriel. What exactly is it I’m supposed to be helpin’ you boys with?”

Gabriel hesitates. “Like Sam said, Dean and Castiel are in trouble. I can’t find them through any of the means available to me. Sam thought you might have a way.”

“I might,” Bobby says, stroking his chin absentmindedly, a worried frown on his face. “Been working on translating a spell to locate just about anything angelic, but it’s in a dead language, and it’s givin’ me a hell of a headache. I reckon you can help with that though. With any luck, we can use it to lock on to Castiel’s grace, track him down that way. Only way it won’t work is if he’s…” Bobby stops, swallows, unable or unwilling to say the word. Sam is grateful.

“He’s not.” Gabriel’s tone is firm. His confidence is almost enough to make Sam believe it. “I would know. But we do have every reason to believe Lucifer has them, and I, for one, would like to be able to rescue them before he decides to change that. Let me see the spell.” Bobby spins in his chair and begins wheeling himself to another room of the house, presumably where he has his notes on the spell stored. Gabriel makes a sound of impatience. “Wait,” he says.

Bobby turns back with a look of annoyance. “You wanna get on with this or not? I mean, not like you’re in a rush or anything.”

Gabriel smirks, steps toward the hunter. “Won’t take more than a second,” he promises, “and will make things quicker in the long run. Stay still.” His hand moves toward Bobby, who jerks backward.

“The hell you think you’re doin’?” he demands.

Sighing impatiently, Gabriel mutters, “Unreasonable, untrusting humans,” under his breath and darts forward. His fingers press to Bobby’s forehead before the hunter can wheel himself away, and he shudders and goes very still.

_Gabriel, what…_

Gabriel shushes Sam aloud, focusing his grace until it’s weaving in and around and through Bobby, moving down, curling around his torso, then his legs…

His moves back after a moment, arms crossed over his chest, eyebrow raised at Bobby, who’s staring at him with his mouth hanging open. “Well Robert?” the archangel says, waving a hand imperiously. “Get a move on already. Like you said, we’re in kind of a rush here.”

Sam watches, torn between stunned amazement and awed gratitude, as the man he considers a second father grips the arms of his chair and levers himself up until he’s...

…standing.

~*~

Castiel is in Ohio. Or, more specifically, Castiel is by Lake Erie. By the map they’d used for the spell, as near as Sam can tell, there’s not much in the area but lots of trees and a thin shoreline. When he and Gabriel appear there, he sees there’s actually a house. It’s in a state of massive disrepair, half hidden just beyond the tree line from the shore, but it’s there, and Sam’s gut tells him that’s where Dean and Castiel will be, though even this close, Gabriel still isn’t able to sense anything.

The reason becomes clear when he takes a few steps closer and a tingle of magic skitters up Sam’s spine, brushing along his skin. _What is that?_ the hunter asks.

 _Very, very old Enochian magic. Older than I am, in fact. Must be how Lucifer’s been hiding himself and our brothers, and how he’s been setting all these traps._ They’re inside whatever wards Lucifer has in place, and now Gabriel can sense the presence of Dean and Castiel. And a handful of demons. And, of course, Lucifer himself.

 _If we know they’re here, they must know we are,_ Sam says. _Why aren’t they coming at us right now?_

Gabriel smirks, presses a hand to his… _Sam’s_ …chest. _They can’t sense me because I’m using a vessel hidden to angels._

And that’s…that would be pure genius, except Sam is pretty sure neither of them thought of it until that exact moment. _You ready for this?_ he asks after a moment. He feels odd… Normally in situations like this, adrenaline fuels him, keeps the fear at bay and keeps him on his toes, ready for anything. But with Gabriel in charge of his body, the adrenaline doesn’t come, so instead, he feels strangely giddy. And frightened. And just… _ready_. Whatever happens here, it will be over. Finally.

 _Definitely,_ is Gabriel’s reply as his sword re-materializes in his hand. _When this is all over, we’re finding the swankiest hotel in Vegas, and we’re not leaving for at least a week. Just so you know._

 _That’s a good plan. I can get behind that._ Sam wraps himself, his essence, around the bond between them, caressing it in a way that causes Gabriel to let out a trembling sigh. _Let’s do it._

Gabriel braces himself and strides forward, prepared to end this once and for all.

~*~

It’s clear from the moment they enter the most heavily warded room that Lucifer’s been waiting for them. There’s no time to check and see if Dean, slumped in the corner with Castiel crouched protectively over him, is all right. There’s no time to call a quick explanation to the angel. There’s not even time to take out the three demons who look up with black eyes the moment they enter the room.

There’s only enough time for Gabriel to raise his sword to parry a blow from Lucifer’s as the devil lunges furiously at them, and then the two are locked in battle, fighting blade against blade, clashing with the might of Heaven, shining with grace as they strike and block, counter-strike and parry. Wings unfurl, offering balance and beauty, and yes, even in a vessel as ragged as the devil’s, Sam can only see the beauty of the Morningstar now.

The archangels are almost equally matched in style, but Lucifer is stronger, and he strikes and thrusts harder than Gabriel can fully block. Gabriel’s only saving grace is that he’s faster, even in Sam’s body, but that doesn’t save him a nasty blow to his side, and Sam can’t help but cry out at the sharp pain that Gabriel can’t block from him.

The problem, Sam realizes as Gabriel spins away from a particularly brutal thrust of Lucifer’s coal-black blade, is that Gabriel is holding back. He’s being too careful of Sam, not wanting to take over so much that he crushes the human soul this body carries, and it’s losing him ground against the devil. To beat him, Sam realizes a sacrifice may need to be made.

“No,” Gabriel growls out between clenched teeth, striking hard and fast at Lucifer and managing a shallow slice to his arm. Lucifer gives an enraged bellow, and now Sam catches the demons moving in in the periphery of his vision, ready to aid their master.

 _Gabriel, you have to. You have to!_ Sam pleads desperately. Across the room, he’s aware of Castiel standing, grace swelling as his wings shimmer into existence, a look of pure righteous fury on his face. Dean remains unmoving, though Sam, through Gabriel, can sense the flickering brightness of his soul, still hanging on doggedly to life. _It’s the only way,_ he says as Castiel grabs a demon by the arm and spins him, knocking him to the ground and reaching out with his grace. In his more immediate vicinity, Lucifer is moving in closer, fighting dirtier, and Gabriel only just manages to block what would have been a nasty blow to Sam’s chest.

 _Don’t you dare ask that of me! I won’t!_ Gabriel yells, his voice pounding through Sam’s essence, battering against him. Behind him, a demon manages to grab his arm and twist, and it’s only through sheer strength of will that Gabriel keeps hold of his sword. The distraction is enough though that before he manages to fight free of the demon, Lucifer has him by the throat, ready to deliver a killing blow.

 _Do it! Now!_ Sam cries, and Gabriel doesn’t fight him anymore, _can’t_ fight him, and the brilliance of his grace flares brightly, burns through Sam, crushing him, devouring him whole, until there’s nothing left to hold onto and he’s falling…

falling…

…and gone.


	9. Love

Darkness, deeper than shadow, colder than night.

~*~

Screaming, shattering the aching stillness that presses in so closely.

~*~

Flickering light, and crawling toward it desperately, so desperately.

~*~

Whispers, begging him to turn back, to come home. Warmth, surrounding him, holding him.

~*~

_We are family, Sam Winchester, and I refuse to let you go so easily._

~*~

_Come back, for the sake of your brother. For the sake of **mine**._

~*~

Time, the ebb and flow of it as he slowly, endlessly fights his way back. Guided and comforted as he begins to regain some sense of self, some awareness.

~*~

Pain, excruciating pain, and then darkness again, but this darkness is peaceful, safer than the last, and he sinks into it wearily.

~*~

The bed is soft, almost sinfully so, and Sam wants to curl into it, breathe it in and indulge in it to the fullest extent possible, but he seems to be unable to move. Fragments of thought and memory whisper against him, but the words and images make no sense, choppy and vague, with an edge of darkness to them he instinctively wants to shy away from.

 _Sam_ , he hears, the voice familiar and gentle, coaxing. _Sam, come back to me._

The voice brings with it light, a thread of luminescence in his field of vision, and memories are coming faster now, because this is familiar, too familiar. He curls himself around the bond in front of him. _Gabriel_ , he sighs.

He’s enveloped in warmth and comfort and love and light, strengthened by the grace Gabriel coils around him. _Gotta stop doing this to me, Sammy_ , the archangel says, and wrapped so tightly to his essence, Sam can hear the weariness, the fatigue, the fear.

 _I’m sorry_ , he says, though he’s not sure quite what he’s apologizing for.

_It’s all right. You’re safe now. You’re safe, and you’re here, and God help you if you try this again because so help me, I will smite you._

_Where are we?_ Sam asks as his thoughts grow steadily clearer. He can remember now, Gabriel fighting Lucifer, being hurt, yelling, forcing Gabriel to take him over completely…

_Told you, swankiest hotel in Vegas. Not quite what I had in mind at the time, but until Castiel can fix my vessel, not much I can do about it._

There’s…nothing about that sentence that makes sense to Sam, except he has a vague recollection of Gabriel giving Bobby the coordinates of the place in Oregon he’d been held captive and asking the hunter to see if he could find the empty vessel. But for Bobby to have already done so means he’s been out for…

 _Five days._ Gabriel’s voice is steady, but there’s an undercurrent of grief to it that he can’t hide from Sam. _You’ve been out for five days you inconsiderate bastard. For three of them, I thought you were…_ But even now, safe and wrapped around each other in this strangest, most intimate of ways, he won’t say the word. _It was Castiel who was able to find you through the bond. He joined his grace with mine when I was too weak, and he helped pull you back when I couldn’t._

Sam is silent as he processes that. He can’t remember anything beyond burning light and then crushing darkness. _What happened?_ He asked, not entirely sure he really wants to know.

 _I did what I had to. Destroyed Lucifer’s vessel, worked some complicated mojo to make sure he ended up back where he’s supposed to be._ Gabriel’s voice is tight with some emotion Sam doesn’t want to name. _It took a lot out of me. I was unconscious myself most of the first day. Castiel got us out, back to Bobby’s, took care of Dean first and then joined with me to try and take care of me too. It was because I was so weak that he was able to sense you._

Sam feels Gabriel swallow. _I’m sorry,_ he says quietly. _About everything. I know Lucifer was your brother, and that you loved him._

 _It’s been a long time since Lucifer was the brother I loved._ Gabriel burrows deeper, brightens as he wraps himself more tightly around Sam’s essence and the bond they share. Sam feels his pain, despite his words, and he offers what small amount of comfort he can to the archangel. _Anyway, it took Castiel two days to coax you back, even when I was aware enough again to try and help. He did most of the work. And then you were just…unconscious, till today._

Sam can feel Gabriel’s fear, still there, still clinging even now that he’s awake, and he sends the biggest swell of reassurance he can to the archangel, promising without words that he’s all right, that he’s not going anywhere. _And your vessel?_ he asks after a quiet moment.

 _Bobby got back yesterday. The vessel was…mostly destroyed, but there’s enough left that Castiel’s been working pretty much non-stop to try and put it right again. I would, but…my grace is still pretty weak. The vessel isn’t technically human – I created it myself – so it should be easier for him. I hope._ He scoffs a little. _About that point, Bobby kicked me out, told me to relax somewhere and get myself back together, so I could help you._

 _So…_ Sam pauses briefly, then forces himself to ask the question. _So is it over? Really over now?_

 _Ah, well, about that._ Gabriel shifts, both the body he’s wearing and his essence, tightening around Sam in a warm embrace of spirit. _Seems my brothers and sisters have been recalled to Heaven. Michael’s given up. And he refuses to allow them to take revenge on the stupid humans who ruined his plans._ Sam can feel his careful smile. _Honestly? I think a part of him is grateful not to have to take on Lucifer again. They always loved each other too much… Anyway, they’re gone now, all of them except me and Castiel. We’ve been granted leave to stay if we choose to, in deference to some pretty old, pretty specific laws regarding bonds between angels and humans._

It seems…too good to be true. _And the horsemen?_

_Left before the confrontation ever took place. All the signs Bobby was tracking, it was all part of Lucifer’s trap, not the horsemen themselves._

Sam wants to allow himself the happiness trying to battle its way inside him. It’s been too long since things were this good, too long since he hasn’t had the hopeless tug of destiny trying to pull him under. But there’s something… _something_ in Gabriel’s grace that won’t allow it. Some lingering sadness, something he’s not saying, and no matter how cheerful he’s trying to sound, Sam knows it can’t be anything good. _Gabriel?_

 _Hmmm,_ the archangel murmurs, sounding mostly sleep and content. To Sam, it also sounds very forced.

_Gabriel, what aren’t you telling me?_

Gabriel goes very, very still. _I don’t –_

_Gabriel._

There’s a long pause, and Gabriel tries to draw away from Sam, but Sam refuses to allow it, wrapping more tightly and holding Gabriel in place. _I…found something, when you were unconscious. It shouldn’t be possible, but I found a way to…sever the bond. Undo it, as though it never existed. It’s not an opportunity that will last long. With both of us as weak as we are, the bond is frayed. The stronger we get, the stronger it will. This is probably the only chance I’d ever have to break it. You have a chance to be free, Sam._

Sam…doesn’t know what to say to that. It’s only been a couple of months, but he can’t imagine being separated from the archangel, can’t imagine ever _wanting_ to be. Maybe in the beginning, before he fell in love, but now…

Gabriel sounds pained when he says, _Sam, what you feel is an effect of the bond. We both know it. If you were free of it, you would be glad to be, you’d wonder how you ever allowed yourself to think you really felt that way._

And, okay, now Sam is just plain angry. _Gabriel, haven’t we had this discussion?_

 _Yes, we have, but that was before either of us knew we had a choice in the matter!_ Gabriel says, his voice harsh. _Sam, you don’t want this! **I** don’t want this!_

Sam goes cold. _You…don’t want…_

 _Sam._ Gabriel sighs, winding his grace around Sam, a brief caress. _I want you. But I don’t want this…this thing where I have all the control and you’re a puppet who I’ll never know for sure if you’re just there because you have to be, or because you want to be. I…dammit, Sam, I love you. I love you, and I can’t take hurting you again. I **can’t**._

 _Woah, woah, Gabriel, calm down,_ Sam says, reeling. If he were himself, if he was more than just soul-light and essence, his head would be spinning, but as it is, all he can do is hang on to Gabriel to try and ground himself. Try to ground _both_ of them. _Gabriel, you didn’t hurt me,_ is what he says first, because that, he feels he can tackle. _What happened…it would have happened anyway, one way or another. You were trying to protect me, and we **both** know better now._

_It doesn’t change the point. We have a chance to change this, and we should. You deserve to have your freedom, now that you can. There’s no Lucifer to worry about anymore, no apocalypse. You can go back to your life, find a nice girl to settle down with, have a house with a white picket fence and two-point-five kids._

_And you’ll what, go back to Heaven and start playing by their rules again, with a big brother who’s miserable and a father who’s still conspicuously absent?_ Sam doesn’t currently have an eyebrow to raise or arms to cross, but he’s sure his tone gets the sarcasm across. At Gabriel’s silence, he goes on. _I don’t want any of that. The girl, or the house, or **any** of it. I want **you** , Gabriel. Bond or not, that’s not going to change now. Maybe the bond set it in motion, but I know what I feel, and it wouldn’t just disappear along with the bond._

_Even still, everything else…_

_What would happen to us if you removed the bond right now?_

Gabriel pauses, hesitant. _What do you mean?_ he finally asks.

_What would happen to **us**? To you? If the bond wasn’t in place, would we still be able to be together?_

The answer comes swiftly. _No. With Heaven recalling the angels, I’d never be allowed to remain behind, not now that they know where I am. And…I wouldn’t be able to find you later, when you’d…passed on. I wouldn’t be allowed, not without a claim._

Sam twists himself further into Gabriel. _Then the bond stays. I refuse to be without you, Gabriel. I love you, and I’m not losing you. I gave myself to you, and there’s a no returns or exchanges policy, got it?_

_Sam…_

__  
**Got it?**   


Everything about Gabriel goes relaxed and warm against Sam as he finally – _finally_ – allows himself to give in. _All right, all right. I got it. Stubborn lunatic._

Sam is glowing, he can feel it. The only way he can describe how his essence moves against Gabriel is a nuzzle. _You love me,_ he says happily.

Gabriel sighs, coils his grace more securely around Sam. _Yeah. There is that._

~*~

The call comes through from Bobby two days later that Castiel has managed to fix Gabriel’s vessel. It’s taken some time, but Gabriel is stronger again, his grace mostly powered up again after the battle with Lucifer that drained him so completely. They’ve spent the two days doing nothing but talking while Gabriel lays on the most comfortable bed in existence, head propped on arm, Sam curled around his grace and their bond like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

 _Let’s go get my body back,_ Gabriel says when he hangs up the phone. He sounds a little wistful though, and Sam can relate. He misses having control of his own body, but there’s something incredible about being like this with the archangel. Something that goes so far beyond intimacy it’s indescribable. He almost doesn’t want to lose it, as impractical as he knows it would be to stay like this.

_Once that’s taken care of, we’re coming back, right? You promised me a whole week, and I don’t think most of the past few days counts._

Gabriel laughs. _We are **definitely** coming back,_ he promises. _And then your ass is mine. In the non-vessely sort of way._

And yeah. Sam’s pretty down with that plan.

~*~

Gabriel’s vessel is laid out on the cot in the panic room, where Castiel has been apparently working night and day to repair it while Gabriel’s been too weak to do so himself. The angel is the only one in the room when they appear, and he stands and greets them with a small but warm smile.

Gabriel pauses only long enough to give him a nod before he walks over to the cot and gazes down at the vessel that Sam sees looks no different from the last time he saw it. “You did a good job, little brother,” Gabriel says after a moment of careful examination.

Castiel flushes a little. “It’s not as though you would not have been able to do the same, probably faster and more efficiently.”

“Would’ve taken a lot outta me though, at the moment. You saved me a lot of trouble.” His eyes are as sharp as they are sincere when he looks right at Castiel and says, “Thank you.”

Castiel’s smile widens and he tilts his head in acknowledgement. “I’ll leave you to it,” he says.

Gabriel nods again, and Castiel goes, leaving the door open a crack, which Gabriel interprets as an invitation (or possibly a command) to go and speak with their respective family members when they’re done. “Huh,” he says aloud to Sam when they’re alone. “Guess if I’m gonna be stuck on earth with a family member, least I got the cool brother.”

Sam is inclined to agree. No one but Castiel will be able to keep both Dean and Gabriel in line as much as they’re going to need it, he thinks. He refrains from saying that to Gabriel though.

Gabriel is still bent over his vessel, and he takes an unnecessary breath, releases it slowly. “Hang on Sam,” he says. “Might be a little disconcerting for you.”

 _How shocking,_ Sam says dryly. He realizes he’s still clinging to Gabriel, to his grace or his essence or whatever it is that the archangel is made of, but he doesn’t have time to pull away before Gabriel is already pouring himself out into his vessel. Sam’s perception fills with white-hot light, and he can feel Gabriel tearing away from him. It’s painful, but not unbearably so, and Sam closes his eyes against the radiance…

…And then he realizes he’s closed his eyes and they fly open again.

He’s still leaning over the cot, breathing harshly, but it’s _him_ holding his own weight, it’s _him_ blinking his eyes, trying to adjust to new perceptions and sensations. Beneath him, Gabriel takes a deep breath, his own hazel eyes blinking open slowly. His lips twitch up into a tiny smirk. “Heya, Sammy,” he says, and he sounds just the slightest bit raspy.

Sam leans down further and kisses him deeply. Gabriel presses up into it, his hands reaching to grab Sam by the arms and pull him down even more so that Sam is almost lying on top of him as their mouths open, tongues meeting and sliding together, heat sparking somewhere deep inside of Sam. When he pulls away only a moment later, he doesn’t go far, only presses his forehead against Gabriel’s for long enough to catch his breath. Something inside him feels strange, and he doesn’t know what it is, but it doesn’t feel _bad_. Just different.

“Ahh, it’s good to be home,” Gabriel sighs, pressing a kiss to Sam’s jawline. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine,” Sam says. “Something…” but he doesn’t know how to explain the odd sensation inside him.

“Yeah, we’ll talk about the _something_ later.” Gabriel’s eyes glint, and Sam recognizes that look too well from his Trickster days. Now he’s really not sure he wants to know. “Okay otherwise?”

Sam nods slowly, his eyes searching Gabriel’s. The archangel gives nothing away.

After a moment, one of Gabriel’s hands slides up to Sam’s neck to trace the collar at his throat. Beneath his fingers, the sigils begin to glow. “Y’know, with all the angels but Castiel gone, there’s no real reason for you to keep wearing this.” His voice is soft.

Sam’s hand catches Gabriel’s where is rests against the leather. “Leave it.”

Gabriel doesn’t ask if he’s sure. He gazes at Sam for a long moment, and then nods, a small but genuine smile creeping over his face. “Okay then.”

Sam moves off the cot, helps Gabriel to his feet. Before the archangel can get more than a step toward the door, Sam has his arms around him, holding tightly. Gabriel relaxes into the embrace instantly, arms coming up around Sam without question. Sam sighs. “Wanted to do this the second you finally said it.”

“Said what?” Gabriel asks, his tone teasing.

“Gabriel.”

Gabriel’s hand finds the front of Sam’s collar, and he pulls Sam down. “I love you,” he whispers, hot breath ghosting in his ear as he nips gently at the lobe. Sam shudders, eyes closing as the words pierce through him all over again. Gabriel pushes him away gently. “Now come on! The sooner we make our rounds, the sooner I can get you back to the hotel. And then I plan to do all kinds of wicked things to you.” His eyes are dark with promise, and Sam swallows, biting back a whimper.

~*~

They make their rounds as quickly as possible, and later, Sam will only remember the highlights.

He’ll remember trying to express how grateful he is to Castiel for bringing him back, and the angel telling him that he never need thank him for that, because Sam is family and that’s what matters. If he notices the tears in Sam’s eyes, he takes a page from Dean’s book and wisely says nothing.

He’ll remember Castiel and Gabriel going outside, and then facing his brother, and his brother’s fierce outrage over Sam trying to sacrifice himself. He’ll remember the manly hugs, and more tears on both sides, and them both deciding it will be better to never speak of it again.

He’ll remember Bobby fondly calling them both idjits, and clapping them on the shoulders, and then smacking them both upside the head for what they’ve chosen to do with their respective angels. He’ll remember not being able to care much, because Bobby is hiding a smile as he says it, and he’s standing and walking on his own, and life is better for all of them then he can remember it being in so long.

He’ll remember calling for Gabriel, and he’ll remember, with laughter, the archangel’s answer of, _Finally_. He’ll remember the whisper of wings, and the heat of Gabriel’s hand when he touches Sam’s arm, and the knowing glint in Dean’s eye as he’s whisked away.

~*~

Sam never really had a chance to appreciate the room before, and he’s not given the opportunity now, because when the suite materializes around him, he’s somehow already lying on his stomach on the bed, naked except for the constant reassuring weight of the soft leather at his neck.

Being bound to an archangel is either maddening or fantastic, and he’s really not in any position to try and decide which right now. Gabriel, equally naked, crawls onto the bed as Sam’s pushing up onto his elbows to try and look around. He straddles Sam’s hips, pushing him back down, and leans over to press a gentle kiss to Sam’s spine, right between his shoulder blades. He snaps his fingers, and the lights go off just before hundreds of candles flicker to life around the room, casting shadows and light over them both.

“Don’t waste any time, do you?” Sam murmurs, giving in and settling back on the bed, pillowing his head on his arms, turned enough that he can peer up at the archangel, whose eyes glow golden in the candlelight.

Gabriel smirks, runs a hand up and down Sam’s back, his touch feather-light. “Y’know, actually, I was thinking of taking _lots_ of time tonight,” he replies, snapping again. Sam has already turned back into the pillow and can’t see what Gabriel materializes in his hand, but he hears the sound of something being opened, and then feels something warm dribbling onto his back.

Confused, Sam tries to turn again, but Gabriel’s hand keeps him in place, the touch gentle, the unspoken command firm. “Gabriel, what are you –”

A finger presses to his mouth, quieting him. “Shh.” The finger moves away, and Gabriel’s hands both move to Sam’s back, spreading the oil, caressing up and down his spine and then kneading at his shoulders. “Just relax. Breathe. Enjoy.”

Sam hums a little in the back of his throat, already lost in the sensations coursing through him. It’s more than just the hands pressing and manipulating the tense muscles in his shoulders and neck. There’s something soul-deep, something connected to the archangel, something that flutters under his skin as Gabriel touches him.

“Like that, Sammy?” Gabriel asks, nimble fingers working at the kinks along his spine, knuckles pressing in deeper where the knots are particularly bad.

Sam practically purrs, can’t even find it in himself to protest the use of the nickname. It’s been years since he last had a decent massage, since _Jess_ , and he doesn’t even notice normally how tense he really is. Apparently even housing an archangel can’t work out deep-rooted back issues, but Gabriel is doing an amazing job making up for it with this. Tension that Sam didn’t even realize he had is giving way to blissful relief, gentle pain flaring up and then falling away as the archangel rubs along oil-coated skin.

The fluttering sensation is getting more noticeable. Even in this state of deep relaxation, it’s as though something is buzzing beneath Gabriel’s fingers, and Sam shifts restlessly, which makes Gabriel pause where he’s working at the spot between Sam’s shoulder blades. “You all right, Sam?”

Gabriel’s palm is pressed flat against his spine, and from the tips of his fingers, it feels like tendrils of grace are reaching down into him, digger deep and bringing something…some unknowable force…to the surface. “What _is_ that?” Sam asks, slightly breathless.

He can feel Gabriel tense, just a little, but rather than pull back like he’s afraid he will, Gabriel presses his other hand flat as well, fingers reaching up to Sam’s shoulder blades, thumbs meeting just over Sam’s spine. “You really want to know?” Gabriel inquires.

Sam’s hands are curled into loose fists around his pillow, his eyes shut while lights and colors dance and swirl behind them. He shudders as the vibrations go deeper and move through him, twist and curl around his very being. “Yes,” he gasps, though he’s not really sure he does.

“It’s grace,” Gabriel whispers. “A chunk of my grace that got left behind when I switched vessels. A part that rooted so deeply into your soul that you kept it with you when I left. Just like part of your soul came away with me.”

Sam’s trying to sort out the words Gabriel is saying, but he can’t focus, can’t think past the buzzing of his soul. He moans, his spine arching just a little before Gabriel pushes him back down gently.

“The physical manifestation of the grace wants to be released, it’s reacting to me being so close. I can help, if you want me to.”

Sam wants. He very much wants Gabriel’s help, because the tingling is becoming a dull throb, and there’s a ringing in his ears now, and there’s so _much_ of this thing inside him, this thing trying to claw it’s way out. “Please!” he cries when it all finally gets to be too much, and he feels Gabriel tracing some strange sigil into his skin, his fingers deft and unhesitating.

There’s a feeling like something tearing open at his back, but no pain. Light burns brightly behind his eyes, and there’s a sound he can’t identify. And then something… _unfurls_. Relief, sharp and sweet, has him sighing deeply as the trembling eases, the ringing in his ears dying away. There’s a new weight at his back, and he’s afraid to speak, afraid to _look_ , desperately afraid of what’s there as he begins to process what Gabriel was saying. Grace. A physical manifestation of the grace he all but stole.

Gabriel’s hand slides into his hair, tugs firmly. “None of that,” he growls. “I doubt we could have avoided this anyway, and you definitely didn’t _steal_ anything from me. What I did…an angel using someone as a vessel who’s bonded to them in any way…has never been done before. Can’t say I’m surprised there were consequences. And all things considered, this ain’t so bad.”

Sam almost protests when Gabriel slides off of him, but he has a hand wrapped around Sam’s arm, pulling gently, and the hunter sits up with a growing feeling of trepidation.

He keeps his eyes firmly closed, terrified to know what the strange weight he can feel is, until he feels Gabriel’s fingers at his chin, tilting his face up to the kneeling archangel, who kisses him deeply. “Open your eyes, Sam,” he says softly, and all Sam can do is obey.

Gabriel’s eyes are still golden in the flickering candlelight, and they sparkle with something like joy, like _reverence_ , as he gazes as Sam. “What?” Sam finally asks after a long moment, twitching nervously.

Behind him, something shifts. Quivers. When Sam freezes on the spot, Gabriel’s lips twitch up until he’s smiling outright, a huff of laughter escaping. “Stop being such a wimp,” he laughs. “Turn around and look. I promise it’s not as bad as whatever you’re imagining.”

Warm reassurance flows through their bond, and it’s that more than anything that allows Sam to turn, peering over his shoulder…

…and then gasping in awe.

Wings. Massive, beautiful, _impossible_ wings span from his shoulder-blades, curving over the bed, trailing along the floor. They’re not white, not even black like Dean once said Castiel’s were. They’re a burnished copper-gold, darker at the top and then lightening toward the bottom. The candlelight reflects off of the feathers, making them shimmer as they move, and all Sam can do is stare. Some instinct, some sort of _knowing_ , has him flexing muscles he’s never been aware of, and the wings span open almost to their full extent. Even in a room this spacious, they’re an impressive size, but Sam still can’t process much beyond, _Wings!_

He makes a strangled sort of noise, and Gabriel’s fingers press against his face, turning him back to the archangel. “Sam,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

“I… Gabriel, there are…” His eyes are wide, breath uneven, and he thinks he might be on the verge of a panic attack, which isn’t an affliction he’s exactly prone to.

Gabriel laughs again, a gentle sound, and kisses Sam softly on the mouth while his thumb traces over his cheek in a soothing motion. “Yes, there are wings. And they’re _beautiful_. And they’re _yours_.” He sounds almost _worshipful_ , and Sam flushes darkly. Before he can think of anything to say, Gabriel is situating himself on Sam’s lap, wrapping his arms loosely around his neck, honey eyes drinking the hunter in greedily.

And then all Sam can do is press forward, mouth pressing insistently to Gabriel’s, opening it with gentle pressure, tongue sliding in and twining with the archangel’s. His hands are clenched around Gabriel’s hips, though he has no recollection of moving them, and his dick is hardening against him. Heat builds between them, desire curling low in Sam’s gut, twisting in and around him and up and down his spine.

And then one of Gabriel’s hands moves down, touches gently to his spine right between his shoulder blades, right between where flesh gives way to wing joint, and white-hot _need_ flashes through Sam and has him crying out. Gabriel hums into Sam’s mouth and pulls away briefly, eyes sparkling. “Sensitive, hmm?” And then he dives back in, mouth _plundering_ Sam’s as he begins tracing the curve of Sam’s wing while his other hand runs down his side, then back up to press against his chest.

Sam moans brokenly as fingers begin manipulating feathers, carding through them, tugging gently, twisting and bending, each separate touch sparking something deep in Sam and driving him wild, frantic with need.

Gabriel drags his mouth away from Sam’s, moves down to nip at his neck just above the collar, then promptly soothing it with a suckling kiss that has Sam bucking up into him. Gabriel is hot and hard against him, shifting as he moves to plunge both his hands deeply, _greedily_ into Sam’s wings. “ _Gabriel!_ ” Sam cries, back arching as pleasure shoots down his spine.

The archangel’s touches are gentle, and he moves back as both of them breathe harshly. Sam doesn’t have breath to protest as Gabriel moves off his lap and crawls behind the hunter, keeping him in place with a firm hand on his hip as he ducks under one of the wings. Then he’s once again pressed close to Sam, hard cock rubbing against Sam’s lower back. His chest is firm where it’s pressed to the hunter as his hands reach to cup the undersides of the wings, close to where they span from Sam’s back. The touch is soft, but has Sam crying out again at the unexpected sensitivity.

“God, Gabriel,” Sam moans, leaning back into the archangel’s hands. He is shaking, fine tremors running through his whole body, and Gabriel leans forward to press a soothing kiss to his back, just below the soft fall of his hair.

“I want you,” Gabriel whispers against his skin. “Just like this.”

“Then take me.” Sam’s voice holds a desperate plea, and Gabriel presses his forehead against Sam’s spine, just breathing for long moments. Then he shifts, legs spreading, moving to better frame Sam’s body. He leans back against the headboard, pulling Sam with him with preternatural strength, up onto his lap. With a thought, he’s slicked and ready, and then he’s impaling the hunter on his cock before Sam is even fully aware of being moved.

Sam gasps sharply, his head falling back as a whimper claws its way from his throat. His wings tremble, and Gabriel strokes them from base to top and as far along the curve as he can reach before carding his fingers back through bronzed feathers. Sam’s hands are clenched on Gabriel’s thighs, and when the archangel finally tells him to move, he levers himself up, clenching around Gabriel tightly before slowly relaxing his weight down again. He can hardly think straight, every nerve on fire, so much extra sensory input from the wings, and the grace, and the bond, and it’s all he can do to keep up any sort of rhythm as Gabriel drags nimble fingers around and through and over his wings. The archangel is quaking nearly as much as Sam every time the hunter bears down on him, but he holds himself still, focused solely on giving Sam as much pleasure as he can, by doing nothing more than touching his wings.

Sam’s going to come just from this. He knows it, _feels_ it, in the way his cock throbs where it’s hard and aching, pointed up toward his stomach, and in the way Gabriel’s hands in his wings spark something as deep and powerful as his cock brushing against Sam’s prostrate with every downward push. The sounds escaping him are barely human as he shoves harder, takes Gabriel deeper, but even they can’t block the sound of something rustling and unfurling from behind.

Gabriel’s hands have stilled where they rest at Sam’s back, and Sam stutters, his rhythm faltering, and then dying away painfully altogether when something flares inside him as wingtips – not his own – brush along his body. He gives a desperate sob, his head thrown back as Gabriel’s hands go to his waist and begin moving him up and down his shaft again, and the whole while, Sam’s skin is on _fire_ at the feel of Gabriel’s wings stroking all over him. Every time they brush his own wings, it feels like something inside of him slots together in a sharp rush of _rightness_. It’s grace touching grace, it’s desire in the purest sense, and it’s _sacred_ , this thing bursting to life inside him. It’s everything he’s never known he needed. In every possible sense, it’s Sam and Gabriel becoming one.

He’s coming before he realizes it, pulsing out onto his skin and the plush bedspread beneath him without his cock ever being touched once. He’s gasping, clenching down around Gabriel, and the archangel’s wings drag against his once more, causing sparks of light to dance behind his eyes as he presses down one more time, hard, and feels Gabriel shatter apart inside him.

He doesn’t even have a chance to catch his breath before Gabriel is lifting him up, spinning him around, and bringing them together forcefully, mouth to mouth, chest to chest, wingtip to wingtip. _I love you, Sam_ , he hears whispered across his mind, and he replies in kind while overwhelming waves of a feeling like perfection roll over him.

It could be seconds or minutes or hours or _days_ later when he pulls back, flushed and panting, his lips swollen, tingling with the aftereffects of the most intense kiss Gabriel has ever graced him with. His eyes trail over the archangel, take in the wings he’d felt but hadn’t seen…the incredible, shimmering golden wings that arch over the bed and trail along the floor in a waterfall of bright, perfect feathers. He reaches out tentatively and touches the top of one, and Gabriel’s eyes slide closed, the archangel letting out a sound that could almost be a purr.

Sam smiles, brings the hand up to cup the back of Gabriel’s neck so he can pull him in for another kiss. _Gabriel. I love you, so much._

The archangel’s hand cards through his hair as he replies. _You’re the part of me I never knew was missing. And you’re mine, now, forever._

Sam thinks forever maybe doesn’t sound like long enough.

~*~

They’re lying together on the bed much later, both drifting in and out of sleep by the whims and passions of each other. They make love when the mood suits (which is often), and sleep when Sam can no longer do anything else. They hold each other throughout, because any moment they’re not touching feels like a separation neither can bear for long.

Right now, Sam is lying back against the pillows, eyes closed though he is awake, running a hand through Gabriel’s hair while the angel traces the lines of the tattoo on his chest, where he’s resting.

“Hey, Sam?” the archangel says after long moments. “I know I said we’d stay here for a while. But…I kind of have something else in mind.”

Sam glances down at him curiously, the movements of his hand paused.

Gabriel’s eyes, golden in the candlelight that has not gone out since they arrived here, sparkle as they drink Sam in. His voice is low when he speaks again. “Come fly with me, Sam,” he says, and it’s a command, Sam can feel it curl through him, burn through his bones and his flesh and his soul. But he can say no, knows he can say no if he really wants to.

He finds that this is a command he does not mind obeying, and Gabriel’s eyes light up at his easy smile and his wondering nod.

-  



End file.
